E.  SULLEN 


M.-D.  VrflSLOW 

1468   GLENVILLE    DR. 
LOS  ANGELES,  CALIF. 


BOOKS   BY   L.  ALLEN  HARKER 

PUBLISHED  BT  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

Master  and  Maid    ....    12mo,  net  $1.25 

Miss  Esperance  and  Mr.  Wycherly    12mo  81.50 

Concerning  Paul  and  Fiammetta  .     12mo  $1.26 

A  Romance  of  the  Nursery     .      .    12mo  91.25 


MASTER  AND  MAID 


MASTER  AND  MAID 


BY 
MRS.  L.  ALLEN  HARKER 

AUTHOR   OF    "MISS    E8PERANCB  AND    MR.   WTCHBRLT,"     MA    ROMANCE    OT 

THE  NURSERY,"   "HIS  FIRST  LEAVE,"    "CONCERNING 

PAUL  AND  FIAMETTA,"   ETC 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1911 


COPYRIGHT,  1910,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


TO 
A.  W.  A.  H. 

"  The  dearest  friend  to  me,  the  kindest  man, 
The  best  condition 'd  and  unwearied  spirit 
In  doing  courtesies." 


22289S8 


MASTER  AND  MAID 


MASTER  AND   MAID 


CHAPTER  I 

ON  the  second  Friday  of  term  Anthony 
Bevan,  whom  all  his  world  called  "Bruiser 
Bevan,"  Housemaster  of  "B.  House"  in  Ham- 
chester  College,  sat  at  dessert  with  three  of 
his  prefects.  They  had  exhaustively  dis- 
cussed the  prospects  of  the  coming  football 
season,  had  mutually  exchanged  their  holiday 
experiences,  and  now,  when  it  was  really  time 
that  the  boys  should  betake  themselves  to 
their  several  studies,  they  still  lingered  enjoy- 
ing the  last  few  pleasant  moments  over  the 
walnuts  and  the  very  light  port  that  their 
housemaster  considered  suited  to  their  young 
digestions. 

The  big  window  at  the  end  of  the  room 
stood  open  to  the  soft  September  evening, 

1 


Master  and  Maid 

and  the  sudden  crunch  of  wheels  upon  the 
newly  gravelled  drive  was  plainly  audible,  fol- 
lowed as  it  was  by  a  loud  ring. 

Master  and  boys  fell  silent,  listening;  and 
the  parlour-maid  opened  the  dining-room  door. 

"Please,  sir,  there's  a  young  lady — "  she 
began;  when  the  tale  was  taken  up  by  an- 
other voice,  a  young  voice,  singularly  full  and 
pleasant: 

"It's  me,  Tony,  dear;  and  didn't  you  ex- 
pect me?  Dad  promised  faithfully  he  would 
telegraph,  but  I  suppose  he  forgot,  as  usual; 
and  oh,  I'm  so  tired!  We  had  a  good  cross- 
ing, but  I  couldn't  sleep,  it  was  so  stuffy." 

Val,  the  Irish  terrier,  who  always  lay  under 
his  master's  chair,  rushed  at  the  newcomer, 
leaping  upon  her  in  rapturous  and  excited 
welcome. 

"Ah!  'tis  the  dear  dog  is  pleased  to  see  me. 
Down,  Val,  down!  You'll  tear  me  to  bits! 
Dear  Val!  but  your  welcome  is  too  warm 
altogether." 

Into  the  circle  of  light  thrown  by  the  hang- 
ing lamp  above  the  table  came  a  girl — a  re- 
markably upright,  small,  slim  girl  of  nineteen 

2 


Master  and  Maid 

lad  in  a  long  light  grey  travelling  coat,  with 
a  voluminous  grey  gauze  veil  thrown  back  from 
her  hat.  Her  little  face  was  delicately  featured 
and  pale.  She  was  not  particularly  noticeable 
until  she  spoke:  then  the  timbre  of  her  voice 
was  arresting,  it  was  so  full  and  sweet — not  in 
the  least  degree  loud,  but  singularly  clear  and 
musical,  with  the  unmistakable  lilt  of  a  South- 
ern Irish  brogue. 

Tony  Bevan  leapt  to  his  feet  and  advanced 
to  meet  her,  holding  out  both  his  hands. 

"You,  Lallie!  now!  Why,  I  didn't  expect 
you  for  another  fortnight.  Your  father's  letter 
only " 

"Well,  I'm  here,  Tony,"  she  interrupted, 
"sure  enough,  and  I'm  ravenous.  Can't  I  sit 
down  with  you  and  these  gentlemen  and  have 
some  dinner  now — at  once?  I'm  fairly  clean, 
for  I  had  ever  such  a  wash  at  Birmingham." 

The  girl  included  the  three  prefects  who 
stood  around  the  table  in  her  remarks,  smiling 
radiantly  upon  the  assembled  company,  and 
one  of  them  hastily  set  his  chair  for  her 
near  the  head  of  the  table  which  was  Tony's 
place. 

3 


Master  and  Maid 

As  she  sat  down  she  flashed  another  entran- 
cing smile  in  the  direction  of  the  prefect  ex- 
claiming: 

"Bring  another  chair  now  and  sit  down  by 
me,  and  don't  on  any  account  let  me  spoil 
your  dinners.  Just  take  it  that  I'm  a  few 
courses  late,  and  you'll  all  be  kind  and  keep 
me  company.  Have  some  more  nuts  now,  do, 
and  then  I'll  feel  more  at  home." 

With  the  best  will  in  the  world  those  three 
prefects  sat  down  again,  and  each  one  hastily 
helped  himself  to  nuts,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
their  host,  far  from  seconding  the  newcomer's 
invitation,  turned  right  round  in  his  chair  to 
look  at  the  clock. 

The  concentrated  and  admiring  gaze  of  three 
pairs  of  eyes  did  not  in  the  smallest  degree 
disconcert  her.  She  was  manifestly  and  per- 
fectly at  her  ease.  Not  so  her  host;  he  looked 
distinctly  worried  and  perturbed,  though  he 
hastened  to  ring  the  bell  and  order  some  dinner 
for  his  evidently  unexpected  guest.  Then  he 
sat  down  and  poured  her  out  a  glass  of  claret. 

"Child,  have  you  come  straight  from  Kerry? " 
he  asked. 

4 


Master  and  Maid 

"I  left  home  yesterday  afternoon  and  crossed 
at  night,  and  I  seem  to  have  been  travelling 
ever  since." 

"By  yourself?"  Tony  asked  anxiously. 

"The  Beamishes  met  me  at  Chester,  and  I 
had  a  bath  and  luncheon  at  their  house,  and 
afterwards  we  drove  round  the  city.  Oh! 
here's  my  dinner,  and  it's  thankful  I  am  to  see 
it.  How  nice  of  you  not  to  have  eaten  all  the 
duck!" 

Again  she  included  all  the  company  in  her 
charming  smile,  and  the  senior  prefect  helped 
himself  anew  to  nuts. 

"You're  very  quiet,  Tony,"  she  said,  turn- 
ing to  her  host;  "not  a  patch  upon  Val  in  your 
welcome.  Am  I  in  the  way?  Is  there  not  a 
bed  for  me?  If  so,  you  must  take  me  to  some 
kind  of  a  lodging  after  dinner.  Dad  forbade 
me  to  go  to  any  sort  of  an  hotel." 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  Tony  exclaimed  ha- 
stily, "it  will  be  quite  all  right,  only  it  is  un- 
fortunate that  Miss  Foster  should  happen  to  be 
away  this  week,  just  when  you  have  come." 

"For  my  part,"  she  said,  catching  her  op- 
posite neighbour's  eye  and  making  a  little  face, 

5 


Master  and  Maid 

"I  think  that  I  will  manage  to  exist  without 
Miss  Foster  quite  nicely  till  her  return.  Don't 
you  worry  about  me,  Tony.  I  feel  quite  at 
home  already.  I  know  you,  Mr.  Berry,"  and 
she  nodded  at  the  senior  prefect.  "Paddy's 
got  your  portrait,  and  you  come  in  lots  of 
groups.  Don't  you  think,  Tony,  you  ought  to 
present  these  other  gentlemen  to  me?" 

Mechanically  Tony  Bevan  made  the  required 
introductions.  Whereupon  the  stranger  added : 

"I'm  Paddy  Clonmell's  twin  sister,  you 
know;  he  was  here  last  term,  but  he's  gone  to 
Sandhurst  now.  You'll  remember  him  quite 
well,  don't  you?" 

"Rather!"  came  in  vigorous  chorus  from  the 
three,  and  for  the  moment  Tony  Be  van's 
anxious  expression  changed  to  one  of  amuse- 
ment. 

The  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  struck  half- 
past  eight. 

"I  think  you  fellows  will  need  to  go,"  said 
Tony;  "Miss  Clonmell  will  excuse  you;  it's 
more  than  time  you  were  doing  your  prep." 

"Ah,  well,  we'll  meet  again  to-morrow," 
Miss  Clonmell  announced  cheerfully.  "There's 

6 


Master  and  Maid 

ever  so  many  of  you  I  want  to  see.    I  know 
lots  of  you  by  name  as  well  as  can  be." 

As  the  door  was  shut  behind  the  last  of  the 
prefects  the  girl  drew  her  chair  nearer  to 
Tony's  and  laid  a  small  deprecating  hand  upon 
his  arm. 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  fearfully  in  the  way,  Tony," 
she  said,  in  a  voice  that  subtly  combined  excuse, 
apology,  and  reproach.  "You  don't  seem  a 
bit  glad  to  see  me;  and  if  you  won't  let  me  stay 
here,  Dad  says  I'd  better  go  to  the  big  girls' 
school  in  this  town  as  a  by-something  or  other, 
and  I'll  hate  it!" 

"My  dear,"  and  as  he  spoke  Tony  patted  the 
pleading  little  hand  that  lay  so  lightly  on  his 
arm,  "/  am  entirely  delighted  to  see  you,  but 
as  I  said  before,  it  is  unfortunate  that  Miss 
Foster  should  happen  to  be  away." 

"Bother  Miss  Foster!  I'm  certain  from  all 
I've  heard  that  she's  the  very  worst  sort  of  Aunt 
Emileen.  I'm  glad  she's  away;  I'd  far  rather 
be  here  with  you.  Paddy  says  she's  a  regular 
catamaran.  Honestly,  Tony,  now,  isn't  she?" 

Tony  pursed  up  his  lips,  and  tried  hard  to 
look  severe  as  he  shook  his  head. 

7 


Master  and  Maid 

"I  wish  she  were  here  just  at  present,  any- 
how. When  irresponsible  children  turn  up  un- 
expectedly, it  needs  some  one  strict  to  look 
after  them." 

"Please,  Tony,  do  you  mind  if  I  take  off  my 
hat?  I  didn't  like  to  do  it  before  those  boys, 
for  I  haven't  a  notion  what  state  my  hair  is 
in,  but  you've  seen  me  at  all  times  ever  since 
I  was  a  baby,  haven't  you?  And  you'll  ex- 
cuse it." 

She  drew  the  big  jade  pins  out  of  her  hat 
and  laid  it  on  the  senior  prefect's  chair.  With- 
out it,  she  looked  absurdly  young:  her  face 
was  the  face  of  a  child,  full  of  soft  curves  and 
sweet,  blurred  outlines.  There  was  something 
timid  and  beseeching  in  the  dark  eyes  she  raised 
to  Tony  Bevan  so  confidingly:  eyes  black- 
lashed,  with  faint  blue  shadows  underneath — 
the  "mark  of  the  dirty  finger"  that  e very- 
pretty  Irishwoman  is  proud  to  possess. 

"You  can  look  after  me  beautifully  yourself, 
Tony,  dear;  that's  why  I've  come.  Dad  said 
I'd  be  safer  with  you  than  any  one." 

"But,  my  child,  I  am  in  College  the  greater 
part  of  the  day.  Every  minute  of  my  time  is 

8 


Master  and  Maid 

filled  up  in  school  and  out.  As  it  is,  I  have  an 
appointment  with  the  Chairman  of  the  Play- 
ground Committee  in  five  minutes.  What  mil 
you  do  with  yourself?  " 

"  Can't  I  see  the  chairman  too?  Well  then, 
where's  Paunch?  Couldn't  he  come  and  talk 
to  me  for  a  little  bit — just  while  you  settle 
with  this  other  man?" 

"Hush!  You  must  not  call  Mr.  Johns  by 
that  nickname  here.  Besides,  he's  taking  prep., 
and  would  be  impossible  in  any  case." 

"Now,  Tony,  don't  you  be  hushing  me  for 
saying '  Paunch. '  Everybody  calls  him  Paunch. 
I've  heard  you  do  it  yourself." 

"Yes,  Lallie,  I  dare  say  you  have,  but  not 
here.  It  would  be  most  disrespectful  and 
rude " 

"Good  gracious,  Tony!  You  don't  imagine 
I'm  going  to  call  the  man  Paunch  to  his  face, 
do  you?  Did  you  think  that  when  he  was  in- 
troduced to  me  I'd  make  him  a  curtsey  like 
this" — here  she  arose  and  swept  a  magnificent 
curtsey — "and  say,  'I'm  delighted  to  make 
your  acquaintance  Mr.  Paunch;  I've  heard  a 
vast  deal  about  you  one  way  and  another'? 

9 


Master  and  Maid 

Don't  be  a  goose,  Tony!  What  about  Matron? 
She  hasn't  left,  has  she?  Paddy  says  she's  a 
regular  brick,  and  anyway  it  won't  be  a  bit 
duller  for  me  here  than  it  was  with  Aunt  Emi- 
leen  whenever  Dad  was  away." 

" Child,  who  is  Aunt  Emileen?  I  don't  seem 
to  have  heard  of  her  before.  Couldn't  she  come 
and  be  with  you  for  the  next  few  days?" 

The  girl  burst  into  sudden  laughter — infec- 
tious, musical,  Irish  laughter.  She  rocked  to 
and  fro  in  her  mirth,  and  suddenly  snuggling 
up  to  Tony  Bevan,  rubbed  her  head  against  his 
shoulder. 

"Oh,  Tony,  you  are  too  delicious!  She  can 
certainly  come  if  you  want  her,  but  I'm  not 
sure  that  you'd  think  her  much  good." 

"Sit  up,  Lallie,  there's  some  one  coming 
down  the  drive.  You  haven't  answered  my 
question.  Who  and  where  is  Aunt  Emileen?" 

"Aunt  Emileen  is  my  chaperon,  but  she 
suffers  from  delicate  health.  When  Dad  took 
a  little  house  at  Fairham  last  November — and 
a  nice  soft  winter  it  was — he  told  everybody 
about  Aunt  Emileen,  so  that  no  one  should 
come  pestering  him  and  suggesting  some  nice 

10 


Master  and  Maid 

widow  lady  to  keep  house  and  take  care  of  me. 
And  she  answered  very  well  indeed,  though  it 
was  a  little  difficult  when  the  clergyman  wanted 
to  call  and  see  her."  Again  she  lapsed  into 
that  absurd  infectious  laughter. 

"But  whose  aunt  is  she?"  persisted  the  be- 
wildered Tony.  "I  know  your  father  hasn't 
any  sisters,  and  your  dear  mother  was  an  only 
girl.  Is  she  the  wife  of  one  of  your  uncles?  Or 
is  she  your  father's  aunt?" 

"Honestly,  Tony,  I  can't  tell  you  any  more 
about  the  lady  except  that  she's  Aunt  Emileen." 

"But  what's  her  surname?" 

"I  can't  tell  you,  Tony,  for  I  don't  know; 
we  never  bothered  about  a  surname." 

"Now,  that's  ridiculous,  Lallie;  the  servants 
couldn't  call  her  Aunt  Emileen." 

"Oh,  Tony,  you'll  kill  me,  you're  so  funny. 
Listen,  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  Aunt 
Emileen  is — a  creation,  a  figment  of  Dad's 
brain,  a  sop  thrown  to  conventionality  by  the 
most  unconventional  man  in  creation:  a  Mrs. 
Harris.  She  could  be  as  strict  and  stiff  and 
pernicketty  as  ever  she  liked,  for  she  couldn't 
interfere  with  us  really ;  and  she  pleased  people 

11 


Master  and  Maid 

very  much,  but  they  were  sorry  she  was  such 
an  invalid." 

"But  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  your 
father  really  talked  about  her  to  strangers?" 

"Of  course  he  did.  That's  what  she  was 
for;  we  didn't  want  her.  So  sympathetic  he 
was;  and  then  he'd  break  off  and  joke  about 
her  Low  Church  leanings — she  always  reads 
the  Rock,  does  Aunt  Emileen — and  her  wool- 
work, and  her  missionary  box,  and  her  very 
strict  views  of  life  and  its  responsibilities — oh, 
there  were  some  people  quite  pitied  me  having 
such  an  old  fuss  to  look  after  me." 

Tony  sighed. 

"I  really  don't  know  which  is  the  more  in- 
corrigible infant,  you  or  your  father.  How- 
ever, you'd  better  get  to  bed  now  and  we  can 
see  in  the  morning  what  it  will  be  best  to  do. 
I  must  see  that  chap  at  once ;  Ford  announced 
him  in  the  middle  of  your  interesting  narrative 
about  Aunt  Emileen.  You  must  be  dreadfully 
tired,  poor  child!  I'll  ask  Matron  to  look  after 
you  to-night;  come  with  me." 

"Can't  I  just  go  and  say  good-night  to  those 
nice  boys  and  see  their  little  studies?  " 

12 


Master  and  Maid 

"No,  my  dear,  you  most  certainly  can't. 
You  must  promise  me,  Lallie,  that  you  will 
never  go  into  the  boys'  part  of  the  house  un- 
less I  or  Miss  Foster  be  with  you." 

Lallie  sighed  deeply. 

"I  promise,  Tony,  but  it  is  hard.  I  did  like 
them  so  much,  and  it  would  have  cheered  me 
up." 

The  musical  voice  was  most  submissive,  but 
in  addition  it  suggested  much  fatigue  and  lone- 
liness and  disappointment;  and  poor  Tony 
Bevan  felt  a  perfect  brute.  Her  dark  eyes 
followed  him  reproachfully  as  he  held  the  door 
open  for  her,  and  she  paused  on  the  threshold 
to  say  beseechingly: 

"Don't  try  to  be  an  Uncle  Emileen,  Tony; 
the  part  doesn't  suit  you  one  little  bit,  and  I 
know  you'll  never  be  able  to  keep  it  up.  I'll 
be  a  jewel  of  a  girl  and  a  paragon  of  propriety 
without  you  looking  so  solemn  and  trying  to 
talk  so  preachey.  You'll  be  quite  used  to  me 
being  here  in  a  day  or  two,  and  I'm  sure  I'll 
get  on  with  the  boys  like  anything." 

"My  dear,  you  misunderstand  me;  I  am  de- 
lighted to  have  you,  and  I  hope  you  will  be 

13 


Master  and  Maid 

very  happy.    It  is  only  that  I  am  so  sorry  that 
Miss  Foster " 

"Tony,  if  you  talk  any  more  about  Miss 
Foster  I'll  pinch  you.  I  tell  you  I'm  thankful 
she's  away.  Now  take  me  upstairs  to  my 
bed." 

Matron,  trim  and  neat  in  the  uniform  of  a 
hospital  nurse,  met  them  at  the  bedroom  door. 
Lallie  held  out  both  her  hands  in  greeting. 

"I'm  ever  so  pleased  to  meet  you,  Matron, 
dear,"  she  cried  in  her  sweet  voice.  "You'll 
remember  my  brother,  Paddy  Clonmell?  he's 
devoted  to  you,  and  I'm  to  give  you  his  love 
and  no  end  of  messages." 

The  matron's  kind,  worn  face  beamed. 

"Mr.  Clonmell's  sister,  isn't  it,  sir?"  she 
said,  turning  to  Tony.  "She  has  arrived  be- 
fore you  expected  her,  so  I've  put  her  in  Miss 
Foster's  room  for  to-night.  I  will  see  that  her 
own  is  all  in  order  to-morrow.  I'll  look  after 
her  and  take  care  that  she  is  comfortable." 

"Good-night,  Lallie,"  said  Tony,  looking 
much  relieved.  "Don't  trouble  to  get  up  to 
breakfast;  Ford  will  bring  you  some  upstairs. 
Sleep  well!" 

14 


Master  and  Maid 

He  turned  to  depart,  but  the  girl  came  fly- 
ing after  him  to  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  kiss  me  good-night, 
Tony?"  she  cried  reproachfully,  "an'  me  so 
tired  and  homesick  and  all." 

She  turned  up  her  face  towards  his — the 
pathetic,  tired  child-face. 

Tony  Bevan's  somewhat  weather-beaten 
countenance  turned  a  dusky  crimson.  He 
dropped  a  hasty  kiss  on  the  very  top  of  her 
head  and  fled  down  the  staircase  without  look- 
ing back. 

Matron,  standing  in  the  doorway,  watched 
the  little  scene  with  considerable  interest. 

"Perhaps  he'd  rather  I  didn't  kiss  him  now 
I'm  here,"  Lallie  said  meditatively.  "What 
do  you  think,  Matron?" 

The  girl  evidently  asked  her  opinion  in  all 
good  faith,  and  the  matron,  who  had  a  kind 
heart  for  everything  young  and  a  sincere  liking 
for  the  head  of  the  house,  said  diplomatically: 

"Of  course  I  know  Mr.  Bevan's  just  like  a 
dear  uncle  to  you  and  your  brother;  but  if  I 
was  you,  I  don't  think  I'd  expect  him  to  kiss 
you  while  you're  here.  It  is  a  bit  different 

15 


Master  and  Maid 

being  in  a  College  House,  you  know,  to  what  it 
is  at  home,  now  isn't  it?" 

"It  is,  indeed,"  Lallie  agreed  fervently. 
"Tony  seems  so  funny,  so  stiff  and  stand-off; 
not  a  bit  like  he  is  when  he  comes  over  to  us. 
We're  all  so  fond  of  him,  servants  and  every- 
body." 

"Of  course  you  are,  and  so  you  will  be  here," 
the  matron  said  briskly.  "Mr.  Be  van  is  an 
exceedingly  nice  gentleman  and  a  great  favour- 
ite. But,  you  know,  a  gentleman  who  is  a 
schoolmaster  must  be  a  bit  strict  in  term  time 
or  he  could  never  keep  any  order  at  all." 

"You  think  that's  it?"  said  Lallie,  much 
comforted.  "Of  course  I  can  understand  that. 
Paddy  said  he  was  quite  different  with  us  over 
in  Kerry  to  what  he  is  here.  I  don't  mind  a 
bit  if  that's  all.  I  was  afraid  perhaps  he'd 
taken  a  dislike  to  me." 

"I  don't  think  anybody  could  do  that,"  the 
matron  remarked  consolingly.  "You  see,  Mr. 
Bevan  only  got  your  papa's  letter,  saying  you 
were  coming,  this  morning,  and  I  know  he 
didn't  expect  you  for  some  days.  Somehow, 
your  papa  had  not  made  it  clear  you  were 

16 


Master  and  Maid 

coining  at  once;  and  Mr.  Bevan  was  upset  to 
think  that  nothing  was  ready  for  you,  and  Miss 

Foster  being  away " 

"I'd  rather  have  you  than  twenty  Miss 
Fosters,"  cried  Lallie,  throwing  her  arms 
around  Matron's  neck.  "You're  a  dear  kind 
woman,  and  I  love  you." 


17 


CHAPTER  II 

MR.  NICHOLL,  Chairman  of  the  Play- 
ground Committee — commonly  known 
as  "young  Nick"  to  distinguish  him  from  his 
brother,  "old  Nick,"  a  master  of  irascible  dis- 
position— sat  awaiting  Tony  Bevan's  collabo- 
ration in  that  gentleman's  comfortable  study. 
While  he  waited,  young  Nick  indulged  in  all 
manner  of  romantic  surmises  as  to  his  colleague's 
probable  engagement  during  the  recent  vaca- 
tion. Young  Nick  was  really  young,  and  was 
not  in  the  least  short-sighted.  The  brilliantly 
lighted  dining-room  and  its  two  occupants  were 
almost  forced  upon  his  notice  as  he  walked  up 
the  drive  to  B.  House,  and  it  was  with  the 
greatest  interest,  tempered  by  considerable 
good-natured  amusement,  that  he  beheld  Tony 
Bevan,  shyest  and,  apparently,  most  confirmed 
of  bachelors,  in  an  attitude  that  implied  fa- 
miliar, and  even  tender  relations,  with  so  young 
and  attractive  a  girl. 

18 


Master  and  Maid 

"Sly  dog,  old  Tony,"  he  reflected.  "Kept 
it  uncommonly  dark  till  he  springs  the  girl  upon 
us.  She  must  be  years  younger  than  he  is — 
wonder  what  she  saw  in  old  Tony?  I'd  like  to 
know  how  the  affair  strikes  Miss  Foster — sup- 
pose she  cleared  out  to  give  'em  a  few  minutes 
together.  Shouldn't  have  chosen  that  room  to 
spoon  in  if  I'd  been  them — too  public  by  far. 
Wonder  how  long  he'll  keep  me  waiting  here? 
Shouldn't  have  thought  old  Tony  would  have 
had  the  courage  to  face  Miss  Foster.  I'd  have 
done  it  by  letter  if  I'd  been  in  his  shoes;  per- 
haps he  did.  Anyway,  she  won't  half  like  it. 
Thought  she  was  a  fixture  here  for  evermore, 
and  pitied  old  Tony  from  the  bottom  of  my 
heart.  Well!  Well!  If  ever  a  man  was  safe 
from  matrimony,  old  Tony  seemed  that  chap 
— but  no  one's  safe.  Only  she  really  does  look 
rather  too  much  of  a  kiddie  for  him.  Good  old 
Tony!  he's  a  thorough  sportsman  and  deserves 
the  best  of  luck,  but  it's  quaint  of  him  to  spring 
her  upon  us  without  saying  a  word  first.  I 
wonder  why  now " 

Here  young  Nick's  reflections  were  inter- 
rupted by  the  entrance  of  their  subject,  a  little 

19 


Master  and  Maid 

breathless;  a  little  rumpled  about  the  hair,  for 
Lallie  at  parting  had  thrown  her  arms  about  his 
neck  with  more  warmth  than  discretion ;  a  little 
stirred  out  of  his  usual  comfortable  serenity. 

Young  Nick  held  out  his  hand,  smiling 
broadly. 

"It's  no  use  pretending  I  didn't  see,  old 
chap,  for  I  did.  Heartiest  grats. " 

Tony  Bevan  stepped  back  a  pace,  nor  did  he 
make  any  attempt  to  clasp  the  proffered  hand. 
"Look  here,  Nicholl.  For  heaven's  sake  don't 
let  there  be  any  mistake  of  that  sort;  that  child 
is  Paddy  Clonmell's  sister " 

Tony  paused;  and  young  Nick,  thoroughly 
enjoying  his  evident  discomfort,  remarked  en- 
couragingly. 

"Well,  there's  no  objection  in  that,  is  there?'' 

"Confound  it!"  Tony  Bevan  exclaimed  an- 
grily. "You've  got  hold  of  a  totally  wrong 
idea;  that  child  has  been  sent  to  me  by  her 
father — by  her  father,  mind  you — to  look  after 
while  he  goes  big  game  shooting  in  India  this 
winter.  I've  known  her  since  she  was  a  month 
old,  and  I've  known  him  since  I  was  his  fag 
here,  five-and-twenty  years  ago.  She's  always 

20 


Master  and  Maid 

looked  on  me  as  a  sort  of  uncle,  and  she's 
demonstrative,  poor  little  girl,  like  all  the 
Irish- 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  I'm  sure,"  said  young 
Nick,  with  blue  eyes  that  would  twinkle  merrily 
in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  the  contrary;  "but 
you  must  confess  it  was  a  natural  misconcep- 
tion. You  see,  you'd  kept  it  so  uncommonly 
dark  about  her  coming." 

"Kept  it  dark!"  Tony  echoed  indignantly. 
"Kept  it  dark!  Why,  I  only  knew  myself  that 
Clonmell  wanted  me  to  have  her  this  morning; 
and  in  his  letter  he  said,  'in  a  week  or  so';  then 
the  child  appears  to-night,  wholly  unexpect- 
edly, and  it's  deuced  awkward,  for  Miss  Foster's 
gone  away  for  the  week-end  to  a  niece's  wed- 
ding." 

"Can't  you  get  one  of  the  married  masters 
to  have  her  till  Miss  Foster  comes  back?" 

"No,  I  can't  do  that;  she'd  be  awfully  hurt. 
They're  all  the  soul  of  hospitality  themselves, 
and  I  could  never  make  her  understand  my 
reasons.  I  must  worry  through  somehow, 
only  don't  you  go  off  with  any  ridiculously 
wrong  impression." 

21 


Master  and  Maid 

"Of  course  not,  of  course  not/'  young  Nick 
remarked  solemnly,  still  gazing  at  Tony  with 
eyes  that  seemed  unable  quite  to  see  him  in 
this  new  r61e  of  guardian  to  a  young  lady. 

They  stared  at  each  other  in  silence  for  a 
minute,  and  what  young  Nick  saw  was  a  broad- 
shouldered,  tall  man,  rather  short-necked,  very 
square- jawed,  brown  and  weather-beaten  as  to 
complexion;  a  well-shaved  man  with  a  trust- 
worthy but  by  no  means  beautiful  mouth,  ex- 
cept when  he  smiled,  when  two  rows  of  strong, 
absolutely  perfect  teeth,  redeemed  its  plain- 
ness. Of  Tony  Bevan's  nose,  the  less  said  the 
better.  It  was  inconspicuous  and  far  from 
classical  in  shape,  but  his  eyes  were  really  fine : 
humorous,  clear,  very  brown  eyes  that  were  in 
truth  the  mirrors  of  a  kind  and  candid  soul. 
His  head  was  good,  with  plenty  of  breadth 
and  height  above  the  ear;  his  hair  thick  and 
usually  very  smooth  and  sleek. 

"Clonmell  senior  must  surely  have  married 
very  young  if  you  were  his  fag  here,"  young 
Nick  continued. 

"Clonmell  married  in  his  second  year  at 
Balliol,  and  Lallie  and  Paddy  were  born  while 

22 


Master  and  Maid 

he  was  still  an  undergraduate.  He's  just 
twenty-three  years  older  than  the  twins — in 
years;  in  mind  and  conduct  I  do  believe  he's 
younger  than  either  of  them,  and  heaven  knows 
they're  young  enough.  Of  course  the  Balliol 
authorities  were  furious  at  his  marriage,  but 
he  was  so  brilliant,  they  let  him  stay  on,  for 
they  didn't  want  to  lose  him.  He  was  up  five 
years  you  know,  and  took  all  sorts  of  honours 
in  classics.  It  was  just  the  same  here;  any 
other  chap  would  have  got  the  sack  for  half 
the  things  he  did,  but  they  knew  he  was  safe 
for  a  Balliol  scholarship  and  didn't  want  to 
lose  him." 

"I've  seen  his  name  up  in  the  big  classical. 
Was  he  like  Paddy?" 

"Very  like  Paddy.  Didn't  you  see  him 
when  he  was  down  here  for  the  last  concert, 
standing  on  a  chair  and  singing  'Auld  Lang 
Syne,'  long  after  he  ought  to  have  shut  up? 
Paddy's  the  living  image  of  what  he  was  at  the 
same  age,  but  hasn't  half  his  brains.  When 
he  was  here  he  had  his  prefect's  star  taken 
away  three  times;  got  it  back;  and  finally  they 
had  to  make  him  head  of  his  house,  for  he  was 

23 


Master  and  Maid 

already  captain  of  the  eleven;  and  for  years 
won  every  short  race  in  the  sports.  But  you 
could  never  tell  what  he'd  do  next.  It  wasn't 
that  he  broke  rules,  so  much  as  that  he  always 
seemed  to  think  of  doing  things  no  mortal  had 
conceived  possible.  No  code  of  rules  on  earth 
could  be  framed  to  forbid  the  doings  of  Fitzroy 
Clonmell." 

"Yet  I  suppose  he  was  a  good  chap,  really? 
Paddy  was  a  thoroughly  nice  boy,  with  all  his 
vagaries." 

"So  was  his  father.  Everybody  liked  him; 
everybody  likes  him  to  this  day.  He  looks  far 
too  young  to  be  anybody's  father,  and  is  tre- 
mendously popular  wherever  he  is;  but  he's 
never  in  one  place  long — he's  the  most  restless 
fellow  in  the  world — and  now  he  has  gone  to 
India,  and  left  Lallie  on  my  hands." 

"Surely  it  was  an  odd  thing  to  do?  A  house 
for  boys  in  a  public  school  seems  an  incongru- 
ous sort  of  place  to  select." 

"It's  just  because  it  is  a  house  for  boys  he 
has  selected  it.  His  theory  is  that  nowhere  is 
a  girl  so  safe  as  surrounded  by  boys  and  men. 
I  can  see  his  reasoning  myself,  but  you  can't 

24 


Master  and  Maid 

make  the  world  see  it.  However,  we'd  better 
get  those  times  fixed  up  and  fit  in  the  various 
teams.  All  that  beastly  physical  drill  to  ar- 
range, too — but  you  understand,  don't  you, 
Nicholl?" 

"I  quite  understand,"  young  Nick  replied 
with  so  profound  a  gravity  that  Tony  instantly 
suspected  him  of  a  desire  to  laugh. 

They  lit  their  pipes,  and  for  an  hour  or  more 
wrestled  with  the  problem  in  hand.  Then 
young  Nick  departed. 

The  instant  Tony  was  left  alone  he  sat  him 
down  in  a  comfortable  chair,  switched  on  the 
electric  light  behind  his  head,  and  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  letter.  First  of  all  he  looked  at 
the  date,  which  he  had  not  done  when  he  read 
it  in  the  morning.  It  was  dated  eight  days 
back,  but  the  postmark  was  that  of  the  day 
before. 

"Dear  old  Tony,"  it  ran,  "one  always  thinks 
of  you  when  one  wants  anything  done  in  a 
hurry,  and  done  most  uncommonly  well. 
That's  what  you  get  by  being  so  confoundedly 
conscientious  and  good-natured.  The  com- 
bination is  a  rare  one.  I,  for  instance,  am 

25 


Master  and  Maid 

good-natured,  but  my  worst  enemy  couldn't 
call  me  tiresomely  conscientious.  Whenever 
you  see  my  handwriting,  you  will  say,  '  Wonder 
what  young  Fitz  wants  now?  Of  course  he 
wants  something,'  and  of  course  I  do.  I  want 
you  to  look  after  Lallie  for  me  till  the  end  of 
March.  You've  got  a  magnificent  big  house — 
far  too  large  for  a  bachelor  like  you.  You've 
got  a  lady-housekeeper  whose  manifest  pro- 
priety is  so  stupendous  that  even  Paddy  is 
awed  by  it — a  lady,  I  am  sure,  estimable  in 
every  respect — and  you  have  fifty  boys  rang- 
ing from  thirteen  to  nineteen.  Oh,  yes!  and  I 
forgot  the  worthy  Paunch  and  Val.  Now  if 
you  can't,  amongst  you,  look  after  my  little 
girl  for  six  months  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
yourselves.  She's  too  old  to  put  to  school;  I 
don't  want  to  leave  her  with  hunting  friends 
where  she'd  be  engaged  and  perhaps  married 
before  I  got  back.  Young  men  are  for  ever 
falling  in  love  with  Lallie  of  late,  and  it's  a  ter- 
rible nuisance.  She  cares  not  a  penny  for  any 
of  them,  so  long  as  I  am  there  to  prove  by  com- 
parison how  inferior  they  all  are  to  her  own 
father.  But  with  me  away,  who  knows  but 
that  their  blandishments  might  prevail?  And 
I  have  other  plans  for  Lallie — but  not  yet.  As 
you  know,  I've  brought  her  up  in  a  sensible 
reasonable  human  sort  of  fashion.  She  has 

26 


Master  and  Maid 

been  taught  to  look  upon  mankind — and  by 
mankind  I  mean  the  male  portion  of  humanity 
— as  fellow  creatures,  just  as  much  deserving 
of  kindness  and  trust  and  straightforward  deal- 
ing as  girls  or  women;  and  because  she  looks 
upon  them  as  fellow-creatures,  with  no  ridic- 
ulous mystery  or  conventional  barriers  between 
her  and  them,  she  is  far  safer  than  most  girls 
not  to  make  a  fool  of  herself  or  to  be  taken  in 
by  cheap  external  attractions.  Of  course  she's 
a  bit  of  a  flirt — what  self-respecting  Irish  girl 
is  not? — and  your  big  boys  will  all  be  sighing 
at  her  shrine,  but  it  will  neither  do  them  nor 
her  any  harm. 

"I  don't  often  speak  of  Alice  these  days,  but 
I  never  forget,  and  I  know  you'll  be  kind  to 
my  little  girl  for  her  sake.  Let  the  child  go  to 
the  dancing  school,  though  there's  little  they 
can  teach  her;  and  she  can  keep  up  her  singing, 
and  perhaps  she'd  better  ride,  though  riding 
with  a  master  will  be  little  to  Lallie's  taste.  I 
enclose  a  cheque  for  the  lessons,  etc.  She's  a 
good  girl,  Tony;  and  in  spite  of  her  unusually 
sensible  up-bringing,  is  as  delicately  feminine 
in  all  her  instincts  as  any  old  Tabby  in  Ham- 
chester. 

"Lord  Nenogh  offered  me  third  gun  in  his 
shoot  in  India  this  cold  weather,  and  I  couldn't 
resist  it.  I  was  getting  a  bit  musty.  I've  been 

27 


Master  and  Maid 

bear-leading  those  children  for  eighteen  months 
— ever  since  dear  old  Madame  died.  Lallie 
and  I  always  hit  it  off  perfectly,  but  Paddy's 
too  like  me,  and  gets  on  my  nerves  and  reminds 
me  that  I'm  not  so  young  as  I  was,  and  I  felt  I 
needed  a  complete  change  of  scene  and  people, 
if  I  am  to  remain  the  agreeable  fellow  I  always 
have  been;  and  I  couldn't  take  Lallie  with  me 
tiger  shooting,  now  could  I?  We  sail  from 
Marseilles  in  the  Mooltan  on  the  29th;  send  me 
a  line  to  the  poste  restante  there,  just  to  tell  me 
that  my  property  has  duly  reached  you — as  it 
should  about  the  23rd.  Till  then  I  shall  be 
flying  about  all  over  the  place. 
"Take  care  of  my  Lallie. 

"Yours  as  ever, 

"Fm." 

The  writing  was  small,  close,  upright,  and 
distinct.  When  he  had  read  the  letter  through 
Tony  examined  the  envelope  and  found  from 
its  appearance  that  it  had  evidently  spent  a 
considerable  time  in  somebody's  pocket :  either 
that  of  the  writer  or  of  some  untrustworthy 
messenger. 

He  lit  another  pipe,  and  as  he  watched  the 
fragrant  clouds  of  smoke  roll  forth  and  spend 
themselves  about  the  room,  his  mind  was  busy 

28 


Master  and  Maid 

with  memories  of  Fitzroy  Clonmell;  brilliant, 
inconsequent,  lovable  failure. 

"He  wouldn't  have  been  a  failure  if  his  wife 
had  lived,"  Tony  always  maintained  to  those 
who,  remembering  Fitz  and  his  early  promise  of 
notable  achievements,  lamented  his  falling  off; 
his  wholesale  violation  of  those  youthful  pledges. 

Tony  found  himself  going  back  to  those  first 
years  at  Oxford,  when  brilliant  Fitz  did  all  he 
could  to  push  his  young  schoolfellow  among 
the  athletic  set,  where,  reading  man  as  Fitz  un- 
doubtedly had  been  then,  his  place  was  quite 
as  assured  as  in  the  schools.  Tony  remembered 
his  shock  of  surprise  when  in  his  first  term  he 
went  to  Clonmell 's  rooms  in  the  High,  to  find 
them  tenanted  by  a  brown-haired,  gentle- 
voiced  girl  who  informed  him  she  was  "Mrs. 
Clonmell" — Alice  Clonmell. 

"Oh,  don't  you  remember  sweet  Alice,  Ben  Bolt? 
Sweet  Alice,  with  hair  hazel  brown" — 

Fitz  used  to  sing  at  a  time  when  the  whole 
world  read  "Trilby,"  and  make  eyes  at  his 
wife  the  while.  She  was  very  kind  to  Tony, 
and  he  adored  her  with  the  humble  dog-like 

29 


Master  and  Maid 

devotion  of  a  rather  plain  and  awkward  youth 
whom  ladies  usually  ignored. 

He  remembered  the  wrath  of  the  Balliol  au- 
thorities, and  Fitz's  account  of  his  stormy  in- 
terview with  the  little  Master,  and  how  after 
much  of  what  Fitz  called  "fruitless  alterca- 
tion," he  wheedled  the  Master  into  coming  to 
see  Alice.  Whereupon  that  dignitary  observed 
that  "there  were,  perhaps,  extenuating  cir- 
cumstances, which  must  be  taken  into  consid- 
eration." 

By  and  by  there  came  the  twins,  who  were 
known  as  "the  Balliol  Babies." 

Fitz,  to  the  disappointment  of  all  his  friends, 
was  called  to  the  Irish,  not  the  English,  Bar. 
But  he  was  Irish  before  all  else,  and  declared 
that  his  brilliant  abilities  were  far  too  precious 
and  illuminating  to  be  taken  out  of  his  own 
country. 

He  practised  with  some  success  in  Dublin. 
People  began  to  talk  of  him  as  a  young  lawyer 
who  had  arrived,  when  Alice  met  with  the  car- 
riage accident  which  caused  her  death. 

Fitz  threw  up  all  his  prospects  at  the  Bar, 
left  Ireland,  and,  with  the  two  children  and 

30 


Master  and  Maid 

their  old  nurse,  wandered  about  Europe  for  a 
while,  finally  settling  them  in  a  tiny  hill-side 
villa  near  the  village  of  Veulettes,  in  Normandy, 
with  an  old  French  lady,  in  charge  as  governess. 
It  happened  at  that  time  that  his  own  little 
property  near  Cahirciveen  in  County  Kerry, 
which  had  been  let  on  a  long  lease  during 
his  minority,  fell  vacant,  and  Fitz  went  back 
there  for  the  spring  months,  taking  Madame, 
his  French  cook,  and  his  children  with  him. 
He  kept  on  the  villa  at  Veulettes,  and  the 
family  lived  alternately  in  Kerry  and  in  Nor- 
mandy, as  it  happened  to  suit  its  erratic  head. 
Fitz  was  a  keen  fisherman,  and  a  good  shot. 
The  fishing  at  Cahirciveen  was  beyond  re- 
proach. When  he  wanted  good  hunting  he 
took  a  little  house  for  the  season  either  in  Kil- 
dare  or  some  hunting  county  in  England,  and 
wherever  he  went  Madame  and  Lallie,  the  Irish 
nurse  and  Celestine  the  French  cook,  went  in 
his  train,  and  they  were  joined  in  the  vacations 
by  Paddy,  who  had  been  sent  to  preparatory 
school  at  a  very  tender  age. 

Tony's  pipe  went  out  as  he  sat  thinking  of 
the  innumerable  vacations  he  had  spent  with 

31 


Master  and  Maid 

the  Clonmells;  of  their  warm-hearted  and  tire- 
less hospitality  shown  to  him  wherever  that 
somewhat  nomadic  family  happened  to  be. 
No  one  knew  better  than  Tony  Bevan  that 
Fitzroy  Clonmell  would  gladly  share  all  he  pos- 
sessed with  him,  to  the  half  of  his  kingdom; 
and  looking  back  down  the  long  valley  of  years 
that  lay  behind  him,  Tony  could  not  see  one 
that  was  not  brightened  by  a  thousand  kind- 
nesses from  Fitz.  From  the  time  he  came  as 
an  ugly  little  fourth-form  boy  to  Hamchester, 
where  Fitz  was  the  idol  of  the  lower  school,  the 
admiration  of  all  the  bloods,  and  the  trial  and 
terror  of  most  of  the  masters,  he  had  nothing 
to  remember  of  him  but  good-nature,  good 
feeling,  and  good  friendship.  Fitz  was  casual, 
erratic,  eccentric;  nothing  was  stable  about 
him  except  his  affections.  The  affections  of 
his  friends  he  often  strained  almost  to  the  snap- 
ping point  by  his  irritating  incapacity  for  ob- 
serving regular  days  or  hours  or  ordinary  con- 
ventions; but  somehow  the  strained  affections 
always  contracted  into  place  again,  and  people 
shrugged  their  shoulders  and  exclaimed,  "Just 
like  Fitz!"  and  forgave  him  in  the  long  run, 

32 


Master  and  Maid 

till  he  made  them  angry  again,  when  a  pre- 
cisely similar  process  was  repeated. 

Tony  saw  as  in  a  vision  innumerable  pictures 
of  Lallie  as  an  elf-like  small  girl  who  always  re- 
sponded with  enthusiastic  affection  to  the 
rather  shy  advances  of  the  strong  ugly  young 
man  who  was  so  good  at  games,  so  popular 
with  his  fellow  sportsmen,  so  extremely  shy  in 
any  other  society. 

Every  stranger  noticed  handsome  Paddy, 
even  as  a  baby;  but  for  the  most  part  they 
passed  Lallie  by  in  her  childhood,  and  Tony's 
notice  and  affection  were  very  precious  to  her. 
He  and  the  quaint,  pale-faced  little  girl  had 
much  in  common:  they  understood  one  an- 
other. He  hadn't  seen  Lallie  for  over  a  year, 
and  during  that  time  she  had  changed  and  de- 
veloped. Her  manner  had  acquired  a  certain 
poise  and  balance  wholly  lacking  to  the  wild, 
shy  nymph  of  Irish  river  and  Norman  hill- 
side that  he  knew  so  well. 

Old  Madame's  death  had  made  her  not  only 
more  than  ever  the  companion  of  her  father, 
but  it  had  also  made  her  mistress  of  his  house, 
and  Lallie  had  found  in  herself  all  sorts  of 

33 


Master  and  Maid 

latent  powers  and  possibilities,  hitherto  wholly 
unsuspected,  and  these  had  crystallised  into 
qualities.  Tony  realised  that  while  she  was 
temperamentally  the  same  Lallie — subtle,  sen- 
sitive, responsive  to  every  smallest  change  in 
the  mental  atmosphere — a  new  Lallie  had 
arisen,  who  would  be  by  no  means  so  easily 
dealt  with,  and  a  shrewd  suspicion  flashed 
across  his  mind  that  Fitzroy  Clonmell  was 
equally  aware  of  the  change,  and  that  with 
his  customary  cleverness  he  had  shifted  the 
responsibility  on  to  other  shoulders  than  his 
own. 

Tony  sat  so  still  that  Val  came  from  under 
the  chair,  stretched  himself,  and  laid  his  head 
softly  on  his  master's  knees,  regarding  him 
with  tenderly  inquiring  eyes.  The  clock  on  the 
mantelpiece  struck  twelve,  and  Tony  arose. 

"Time  for  bed,  old  chap,"  he  said,  "but 
we'll  have  a  look  at  the  night  first." 

He  and  the  dog  went  out  into  the  garden, 
and  Tony  looked  up  at  the  black  bulk  of  the 
house  against  the  moonlit  sky.  The  great  dor- 
mitories in  the  wing  lay  stark  and  silent,  all 
their  teeming  life  wrapped  in  the  silence  of 

34 


Master  and  Maid 

healthy  boyhood's  slumber;  and  there  too,  in 
Miss  Foster's  room  above  his  own  study,  lay 
Lallie — Lallie,  with  her  bodyguard  of  fifty 
boys.  He  smiled  at  the  quaint  fancy.  Val 
rubbed  himself  against  his  master's  legs. 

"Well,  Val,  we  must  do  our  best  to  take  care 
of  her,"  said  Tony,  "but  I  can't  have  her  flirt- 
ing with  my  boys  and  upsetting  them.  That 
would  never  do.  However,  it  isn't  as  if  she 
was  one  of  those  flaringly  pretty  girls  that 
every  fellow  turns  round  to  look  at." 

Somehow  this  reflection  did  not  seem  to 
afford  much  comfort  to  Tony.  A  vision  of 
Lallie's  face  lifted  to  his  as  she  said  good-night 
came  between  him  and  the  comfortable  assur- 
ance that  she,  at  all  events,  was  not  pretty. 
How  soft  her  dark  hair  was! — and  it  smelt  of 
violets.  Poor  little  motherless,  warm-hearted 
Lallie! 

He  saw  Val  comfortably  settled  in  his  basket, 
and  went  quietly  up  the  dark  staircase.  He 
paused  outside  Lallie's  door  to  listen;  all  was 
perfectly  still.  In  another  half-hour  every 
soul  hi  B.  House  was  fast  asleep. 


35 


CHAPTER  III 

LALLIE  woke  with  a  start,  a  great  bell  was 
clanging — it  seemed  to  her  in  the  middle 
of  the  night — then  she  realised  where  she  was, 
remembered  that  Paddy  had  told  her  the  rising 
bell  rang  at  seven,  and  turned  over  and  went 
to  sleep  again,  only  to  be  awakened  by  another 
bell,  equally  loud,  an  hour  later. 

This  time  Lallie  sat  up  in  bed,  pushed  her 
hair  out  of  her  eyes,  and  looked  about  her.  A 
long  shaft  of  sunlight  stretched  across  the  room 
through  the  gap  made  by  a  green  blind  that  did 
not  exactly  fit  its  window.  The  windows  were 
open,  and  a  gay  little  breeze  moved  the  blinds 
gently  to  and  fro.  Miss  Foster's  room  was 
large  and  stately  and  handsomely  furnished; 
but  somehow  it  lacked  individuality:  it  was 
impossible  to  divine,  even  to  make  a  guess  at 
Miss  Foster's  characteristics  from  her  bedroom. 

"She  must  be  a  paragon  of  tidiness,"  thought 
Lallie;  "but  perhaps  that's  Ford.  After  all, 

36 


Master  and  Maid 

the  woman  can't  leave  things  about  when  she's 
away,  so  I  won't  hate  her  for  that.  I  wonder 
what  she'd  say  if  some  one  showed  her  one  of 
those  gazing  crystals  and  she  beheld  me  lying 
here  in  her  bed!"  Lallie  smiled  as  she  pic- 
tured Miss  Foster's  astonishment,  and  perhaps 
some  thought  of  the  same  kind  occurred  to 
Ford,  who  at  that  moment  appeared  bearing 
a  breakfast  tray,  for  she  gave  vent  to  a  little 
sound,  as  she  crossed  the  room,  that  might 
have  been  mistaken  for  a  suppressed  giggle  had 
not  her  appearance  been  so  severely  servant- 
like  and  respectful. 

"Mr.  Bevan  sent  his  kind  regards,  miss,  and 
hopes  as  you're  rested;  and  he  says  you're  not 
to  get  up,  but  take  it  quietly  this  morning 
after  such  a  long  journey.  Shall  I  pull  up 
your  blinds,  miss,  or  would  you  prefer  the 
shaded  light?" 

Ford  shot  out  the  words  all  in  one  breath, 
and  deposited  the  tray  on  a  little  table  beside 
the  bed. 

"  Pull  them  all  up,  Ford.  Oh,  what  a  beau- 
tiful morning!  Give  Mr.  Bevan  my  love  and 
say  I  slept  beautifully;  and  Miss  Foster's  bed, 

37 


Master  and  Maid 

and  Miss  Foster's  room,  and  the  view  from 
Miss  Foster's  windows,  and  everything  that  is 
hers  is  charming." 

Ford  waited  in  respectful  silence  till  she  had 
settled  the  tray  on  Lallie's  knees. 

"You'll  give  me  a  hand  with  backs  and 
things,  won't  you,  Ford?  Nearly  all  my 
frocks  fasten  behind — 'tis  the  stupid  fashion  of 
the  present  day,  but  it  can't  be  helped.  I'm 
afraid  I  shall  make  a  good  deal  more  work  for 
you,  Ford,  but  Daddie  said  I  was  to  tell  you 
he'll  make  it  worth  while  at  Christmas.  You 
see,  we  didn't  know  whether  T — whether  Mr. 
Bevan  would  have  room  for  Bridget;  she's  my 
old  nurse,  and  she  does  everything  for  me  at 
home,  but  she's  a  bit  difficult  with  other  ser- 
vants. Do  you  think  you'll  be  able  to  manage 
forme,  Ford?" 

"I  shall  be  very  pleased  to  do  my  best, 
miss,"  said  Ford  demurely.  "You  see,  I'm 
private  parlourmaid;  I've  nothing  to  do  with 
the  young  gentlemen's  part  of  the  'ouse,  and 
Miss  Foster  requires  very  little  waiting  on " 

"Oh,  dear!"  sighed  Lallie;  "not  like  me, 
but  I'll  try  and  be  tidy  in  my  room.  Madame 

38 


Master  and  Maid 

made  me  be  that  though  Bridget  spoiled  me. 
Now  don't  let  me  be  keeping  you;  I'll  ring 
when  I  want  to  get  up  and  you'll  come  and 
show  me  the  bath-room." 

When  Ford  reached  the  kitchen  region  again, 
she  remarked  to  the  cook: 

"I  don't  know  what  it  is  about  that  young 
lady — she's  not  much  to  look  at — but  there's 
something  about  her  that  makes  you  want  to 
do  every  mortal  thing  she  wants  the  minute 
she's  as't  you — I  think  it  must  be  her  voice, 
it's  that  funny  and  weedlin'." 

Cripps,  the  captain  of  the  College  fives,  was 
in  quarantine  for  mumps.  An  inconsiderate 
little  sister  had  developed  this  disease  two  days 
after  his  return  to  school,  and  his  mother  being 
honest  and  considerate  had  hastened  to  inform 
Tony  of  the  fact  by  telegram.  Hence,  Cripps, 
in  rude  health  and  the  very  worst  of  tempers, 
was  removed  from  the  society  of  his  fellows  to 
the  drear  seclusion  of  the  sick-room  by  night 
and  of  the  garden  by  day,  or  such  parts  of  the 
neighbourhood  as  were  in  bounds,  while  the 
boys  were  in  College.  The  rest  of  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Hamchester  might  take  their  chance. 

39 


Master  and  Maid 

But  Cripps,  that  morning,  felt  no  inclination 
for  a  walk;  savage  and  solitary  he  armed  him- 
self with  a  deck-chair  and  the  "  Adventures  of 
Sherlock  Holmes,"  and  sat  him  down  under  an 
elm  at  the  edge  of  the  tennis  lawn  nearest  that 
side  of  B.  House  which  contained  Miss  Foster's 
room.  Thus  it  came  about  that  Lallie,  having 
with  the  assistance  of  Ford  arrayed  herself  in 
a  white  cambric  frock,  dismissed  that  excellent 
handmaid,  and  leaning  out  of  the  window  be- 
held Cripps. 

A  boy — a  big  boy,  with  broad  shoulders  and 
a  brown  face  and  hair  that  stood  up  on  end  in 
front;  a  boy  lying  in  a  deck-chair  and  reading 
a  novel  at  eleven  o'clock  on  a  Saturday  morn- 
ing. Lallie  was  devoured  by  curiosity.  What 
was  that  boy  doing  there?  Was  he  some  old 
Hamchestrian  staying  in  the  house?  No;  he 
looked  too  youthful  for  that.  Why  was  he  not 
in  College  with  the  others? 

Cripps  turned  a  page  and  yawned  widely, 
showing  his  white  even  teeth. 

The  September  sun  was  hot  and  he  felt 
sleepy.  "The  probity  of  parents  sets  the  chil- 
dren's teeth  on  edge,"  said  Cripps  to  himself, 

40 


Master  and  Maid 

with  a  vague  idea  that  he  was  quoting  Scrip- 
ture. He  laid  Sherlock  Holmes  face  down- 
wards on  his  knee  and  closed  his  eyes.  What 
a  long  morning  it  had  been!  Might  the  male- 
dictions of  all  righteous  men  fall  upon  that 
most  mischievous  of  trivial  diseases  called 
mumps!  Why  had  no  doctor  discovered  the 
mump  microbe  and  taken  steps  to  stamp  out 
the  whole  noxious  tribe?  They  were  footling 
fellows  these  doctors  on  the  whole;  all  this 
trouble  arose  from  the  idiotic  habit  little  girls 
have  of  kissing  one  another.  Probably  his 
little  sister  had  kissed  some  wretched  pig-tailed 
brat  who  was —  Cripps  had  almost  forgotten 
his  wrongs  in  slumber  when  he  was  startled  by 
a  full  sweet  voice  which  carolled 

"Captain,  art  tha'  sleeping  down  below?" 

Cripps  sat  up  very  straight  and  looked  about 
him. 

"Why  are  you  not  in  College?"  the  voice 
asked  again. 

Cripps  looked  up  in  the  direction  of  the  voice 
and  leapt  to  his  feet.    Sherlock  Holmes  fell 
neglected  on  the  grass. 
41 


Master  and  Maid 

Lallie  was  leaning  out  of  the  window  just 
above  him. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  exclaimed  politely; 
"I  didn't  know  you  were  there." 

"Naturally,  for  you  were  asleep.  Now  how 
comes  it  that  you  were  falling  asleep  in  the 
middle  of  the  morning?  That's  what  I  want 
to  know.  Are  you  stopping  with  T — with  Mr. 
Bevantoo?" 

Cripps  longed  to  pose  as  a  visitor,  but  hon- 
esty, like  many  worse  things,  is  sometimes 
hereditary,  so  he  hung  his  head  and  mumbled 
dismally: 

"No,  I'm  one  of  the  chaps;  but  I'm  in  quar- 
antine— for  mumps  of  all  beastly  silly  diseases. 
I  know  I  shan't  have  it,  too." 

"Poor  boy,"  said  Lallie  sympathetically,  "I 
hope  you  won't.  I've  had  it,  and  it's  horrible. 
Paddy  brought  it  back  from  here  once  and  gave 
it  to  me.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  boys  in  this 
house  are  always  having  something." 

"We  don't  have  half  as  many  things  as  the 
other  houses,"  Cripps  retorted  indignantly, 
"and  I  haven't  got  it,  it's  my  beastly  little 

sister " 

42 


Master  and  Maid 

"Now  that's  not  nice  of  you,"  said  Lallie  re- 
provingly, "to  speak  of  the  poor  little  girl  like 
that;  no  mortal  could  want  mumps.  But  I 
don't  think  I  can  keep  bawling  to  you  from 
here.  I'll  come  down  if  you  can  ferret  out 
another  chair — not  a  mumpy  one,  mind — and 
I'll  try  and  bring  you  to  a  more  Christian  frame 
of  mind." 

She  vanished  from  the  window  and  Cripps 
flew  to  the  summer  house  to  fetch  one  of  Tony's 
most  luxurious  garden  chairs,  feeling  that  for 
once  the  fates  had  not  dealt  unkindly  with  him 
when  they  put  him  in  quarantine. 

Across  the  lawn  towards  him  came  Lallie, 
swinging  a  green  silk  bag. 

"Do  you  like  your  feet  up?"  asked  the  gal- 
lant Cripps.  "There's  a  piece  that  pulls  out." 

"Thank  you — it  would  be  a  pity  to  waste 
these  shoes,  wouldn't  it?" 

And  Lallie  subsided  into  a  long  chair  which 
supported  her  very  pretty  feet,  shod  in  shiny 
shoes  with  buckles  and  Louis  Quinze  heels. 
From  the  green  silk  bag  she  drew  forth  a  roll, 
which  proved  to  be  lace,  and  she  began  to  sew 
diligently. 

43 


Master  and  Maid 

"What  pretty  work!"  said  Cripps,  drawing 
up  his  chair  to  face  hers. 

"It's  a  strip  of  Limerick  lace  I'm  making, 
and  I've  just  got  to  a  'basket/  The  light's 
good,  so  I  thought  I'd  do  it  this  morning." 

"May  I  see  it  close?"  asked  Cripps,  wishing 
she  would  look  at  him  instead  of  at  her  lace, 
though  black  eyelashes  resting  on  rounded 
cheeks  are  by  no  means  a  disagreeable  pros- 
pect. 

This  morning  Lallie  was  not  so  pale.  Her 
cheeks  were  never  really  rosy,  but  they  were 
fresh,  with  a  delicate,  faint  colour  like  the  in- 
side of  certain  shells.  She  held  out  the  roll  of 
work  towards  Cripps,  and  he  took  hold  of  one 
end  while  she  unpinned  the  other  and  spread 
out  the  lace. 

"By  Jove!"  said  Cripps,  but  it  was  not  at 
the  lace  he  was  looking  so  much  as  at  Lallie 's 
hand.  Such  an  absurd  small  hand  compared 
to  his;  so  white,  with  beautiful  pink  filbert- 
shaped  nails. 

"It's  pretty,  isn't  it?"  said  Lallie,  of  her  lace. 

"Awfully,"  said  Cripps.  "Whatever  size  do 
you  take?" 

44 


Master  and  Maid 

"How  d'you  mean?  You  don't  make  lace 
in  sizes." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  I  was  thinking  of  your 
hands.  Look  at  them — compared  to  mine!" 

"Now  don't  you  be  reproaching  me  with 
being  so  little.  It's  no  fault  of  mine  nor  no 
wish;  I've  done  my  best  to  grow,  but  it's  no 
use.  I'm  the  only  little  person  hi  a  tall  family, 
and  it's  very  out-of-date  for  a  girl  to  be  small 
nowadays.  I'm  a  sort  of  survival  of  the  ob- 
solete, and  if  I  live  to  be  old,  I'll  be  looked 
upon  as  a  sort  of  rarity,  and  people  will  come 
miles  to  see  me." 

"I  should  think  people  do  that  now,"  said 
Cripps,  still  keeping  tight  hold  of  the  lace. 

Lallie  let  go  her  end  of  it  and  looked  at  him. 

"Now  that's  very  kind  of  you  to  say  that — 
really  kind  and  nice.  I  wonder  if  all  your 
family  are  exceptionally  good-looking,  because, 
if  so,  perhaps  you  can  sympathise  with  me. 
Are  they?" 

"Well,  no,  I  don't  think  they  are,"  Cripps 
said,  getting  very  red.  "I  really  have  never 
thought  about  it;  one  doesn't,  you  know,  with 
one's  own  people." 

45 


Master  and  Maid 

"  You'd  have  to  if  you  were  like  me,"  Lallie 
sighed.  "Dad  is  tremendously  good-looking; 
so's  Paddy — don't  you  think  so?" 

"Ye-e-e-s,"  Cripps  answered,  without  en- 
thusiasm, "I  suppose  he  is;  but  one  doesn't 
notice  that  sort  of  thing  much  in  fellows " 

"I  think  it's  their  noses  that  make  them  so 
distinguished,"  Lallie  continued  meditatively. 
"  Dad's  and  Paddy's,  I  mean.  Now,  my  nose 
begins  well,  it  does  really — but  it  changes  its 
character  half  way;  and  it's  got  a  confiding  tip, 
and  that  isn't  in  the  least  distinguished.  My 
only  consolation  is,  it  isn't  often  red," 

"I  think  it's  an  extremely  neat  nose,"  Cripps 
said,  with  convincing  sincerity. 

"Neat,  but  not  gaudy!  Ah,  well,  it's  the 
best  I've  got,  anyway,  and  I  can  smell  any- 
thing burning  in  the  kitchen  quicker  than  most 
people.  But  all  the  same,  I  think  it  must 
be  very  agreeable  to  be  so  good-looking  that 
people  want  to  please  you  just  because  of  it, 
without  you  doing  anything  at  all.  That's 
the  way  with  Dad  and  Paddy.  Now  or- 
dinary folks  like  you  and  me — I  hope  you 
don't  mind  rowing  in  the  same  boat  with 

46 


Master  and  Maid 

me? — have  to  be  nice  to  people  if  we  want 
them  to  like  us." 

"Is  Paddy  Clonmell  your  brother?" 

"My  twin  brother,  but  we're  not  a  bit  alike, 
even  in  disposition,  though  we're  the  best  of 
friends  and  I  adore  him.  What  are  you  cele- 
brated for,  and  I'll  see  if  I  can't  tell  you  your 
name;  I've  heard  about  most  of  you." 

Cripps  blushed. 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  not  celebrated  at  all,"  he 
said  modestly.  "I'm  only  in  Upper  V.;  I 
don't  suppose  you've  ever  heard  of  me." 

Lallie  laid  down  her  work  and  looked  at 
Cripps  critically. 

"I'll  try  again,"  she  said.  "Are  you  a 
College  colour?" 

"Yes." 

"Cricket?" 

"Oh,  no,  I'm  no  good  at  all." 

"Football?" 

"Yes." 

"Fives?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  you're  two,  and  that's  very  grand; 
and  I  think,"  said  Lallie  slowly,  her  eyes  wan- 

47 


Master  and  Maid 

dering  from  her  companion's  face  to  the  book 
lying  on  the  grass  and  back  again — "then  I 
think  you  must  be  Mr.  Cripps,  the  captain  of 
the  College  fives.  Now  aren't  I  a  witch  of  a 
guesser?" 

Distinctly  gratified,  Cripps  duly  expressed 
surprise  at  her  discernment.  Lallie's  sight  was 
good,  and  she  had  seen  his  name  on  the  paper 
copy  of  Sherlock  Holmes  lying  on  the  grass. 
They  continued  to  chat  happily  till  morning 
school  was  over,  and  Tony  Bevan  rushed  back 
to  B.  House  to  see  after  his  guest.  She  saw 
him  coming  and  flew  to  meet  him,  crying: 

"Oh,  Tony,  I've  been  so  happy  in  your  gar- 
den, and  Mr.  Cripps  has  been  so  kind  and  nice, 
and  has  entertained  me  all  the  morning.  It's 
been  very  pleasant  having  him  to  talk  to." 

Tony  smiled  down  at  the  radiant  upturned 
face. 

"You  don't  look  a  bit  tired  this  morning, 
Lallie,"  he  said,  "and  I'm  glad  you've  not  been 
dull;  but  I'd  forgotten  all  about  Cripps,  and 
I'm  not  sure  that  you  ought  to  have  been  talk- 
ing to  him  at  all.  He's  contraband,  you  know, 

a  suspect " 

48 


Master  and  Maid 

"He  told  me  all  about  it,  Tony;  and  I've 
had  the  silly  thing,  and  we  were  out  of  doors, 
so  it  couldn't  matter,  now  could  it?" 

"Get  your  hat  on  now,  Lallie,  you  are  going 
to  lunch  with  Mrs.  Wentworth,  the  Principal's 
wife;  I've  seen  her  about  you  and  she  has 
kindly  promised  to  mother  you  as  much  as 
possible  till  Miss  Foster  comes  back." 

Lallie's  face  fell. 

"Oh,  Tony,"  she  exclaimed,  "can't  I  have 
lunch  with  you  and  all  the  boys  this  first  day? 
Can't  I  stop  here  just  for  to-day?" 

"You'll  have  lunch  here  hundreds  of  times, 
and  I've  made  the  engagement  for  you  to-day. 
Hurry,  my  child,  for  I  haven't  a  minute." 

Lallie  didn't  take  long  to  get  her  hat — a  big 
white  one.  She  also  wore  a  pair  of  long  white 
gloves,  and  still  carried  the  green  silk  bag,  the 
only  touch  of  colour  about  her.  Tony  looked 
at  her  with  kind,  approving  eyes.  How  well 
the  child  carried  herself;  how  girlish  and  fresh 
she  was;  and  in  her  own  quaint  way,  how  full 
of  the  distinction  she  thought  she  lacked.  But 
he  felt  some  misgivings  all  the  same — was  she 
so  unnoticeable?  that  was  the  question. 

49 


Master  and  Maid 

"How  did  you  manage  to  find  Cripps?"  he 
asked,  as  they  hurried  up  the  wide  tree-bor- 
dered road  leading  from  B.  House  to  the  College, 
now  full  of  boys  hurrying  to  and  fro  from  their 
various  houses. 

"I  saw  him  from  the  window,  and  he  was 
nearly  asleep,  so  I  called  to  him  and  he  looked 
up;  he's  such  a  nice  kind  boy — we're  great 
friends  already." 

"Oh,  are  you?"  Tony  said,  rather  drily. 
"Where  was  Matron?" 

"I  haven't  seen  the  dear  matron  this  morn- 
ing; you  see,  I  went  straight  out  whenever  I 
was  dressed.  Oh,  I  did  enjoy  my  lazy  lie  this 
morning,  Tony,  but  I'll  be  up  with  the  lark 
to-morrow." 

"  Don't  you  think  you'd  be  better  to  breakfast 
in  bed  until  you  have  got  thoroughly  rested?" 
Tony  said  nervously.  "  There's  no  need  for  you 
to  get  up,  and  it  makes  such  a  long  morning. 
Hadn't  you  better  breakfast  in  bed  till ' 

"Miss  Foster  comes  back,  I  suppose," 
snapped  Lallie.  "Why  would  you  be  hiding 
me  out  of  sight  all  the  time,  Tony?  Are  you 
ashamed  of  me?" 

60 


Master  and  Maid 

She  stood  still  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 
flushed  and  angry. 

"My  dear  child,  ashamed!"  the  worried  Tony 
repeated.  "What  an  extraordinary  idea!  don't 
stand  there,  Lallie,  the  boys  are  staring  at  you. 
Doesn't  it  prove  how  anxious  I  am  to  show  you 
off  to  my  friends  that  I  haven't  lost  a  minute 
in  introducing  you  to  the  chief  lady  of  our 
community?" 

"I'm  sorry  I  was  cross,  Tony,  but  somehow, 
ever  since  I  came,  I've  felt  that  you  felt  I 
oughtn't  to  be  here;  that — well,  that  I'm  in  a 
kind  of  way  in  quarantine,  like  poor  Cripps, 
and  that  only  Miss  Foster's  return  will  remove 
the  infection." 

"Lallie,  you're  too  sharp  altogether;  you're 
not  so  far  out  though  this  time,  and  I  begin  to 
sympathise  with  your  father's  introduction  of 
Aunt  Emileen.  But  I  promise  you  you'll  be 
happy  this  afternoon;  and  this  evening  I'll 
bring  my  work  into  the  drawing-room  beside 
you.  I  must  do  it,  but  you  won't  feel  lonely 
if  I'm  there,  will  you?  No,  Lallie,  you  must 
not  try  to  embrace  me  in  the  street !  the  boys 
are  looking  at  you!" 

51 


Master  and  Maid 

"Who's  trying  to  embrace  you,  you  con- 
ceited man?  I  was  only  taking  your  arm,  and 
that  you  might  have  offered  me.  I  promised 
Matron  I  wouldn't  try  to  kiss  you  any  more 
here." 

" Promised  Matron!  What  the  dickens  has 
Matron  got  to  do  with  it?"  It  was  Tony  who 
stopped  this  time,  and  his  voice  was  the  reverse 
of  pleased. 

"Oh,  dear,  oh,  dear!  you're  like  the  animals 
in  'Alice/  Tony,  there's  no  pleasing  you  at  all, 
at  all.  May  I  point  out  that  at  the  present 
moment  several  boys  are  looking  at  you!" 

"But,  Lallie,  you  must  explain  what  you 
mean;  you  say  such  extraordinary  things " 

"Not  at  all,  it's  all  the  other  way;  but  I'll 
try  and  remember  to  be  stiff  and  prim;  only 
one  minute  you're  so  nasty  and  the  next  you're 
so  nice  that  action  of  some  sort  seems  impera- 
tive— oh,  dear,  we're  there!  What  a  big  house! 
Is  she  terrible,  Tony?  Will  she  think  I'm  all 
mumpy  too?  You  won't  leave  me;  you'll  see 
me  safe  in " 


52 


CHAPTER  IV 

IN  Hamchester  College  the  headmaster,  Dr. 
Wentworth,  like  other  headmasters,  is  a 
much  criticised  man.  He  has  his  partisans,  he 
has  also  his  detractors.  Were  an  angel  from 
heaven  to  descend  and  become  headmaster  of 
a  large  public  school  he  would  find  plenty  of 
adverse  critics,  and  these  were  by  no  means 
lacking  to  Dr.  Wentworth.  But  about  his 
wife,  there  were  no  two  opinions.  Six  hundred 
boys  and  all  the  masters  agreed  in  thinking 
her  perfectly  delightful.  So  kind  was  she,  so 
friendly,  so  simple  and  believing  in  the  good 
intentions  of  others,  that  quite  curmudgeony 
people  melted  into  amiability  in  the  sunshine 
of  her  presence.  Perhaps  one  of  the  boys  best 
summed  up  her  mysterious  charm  when  he 
said,  "She  doesn't  try  to  be  nice  to  a  chap,  she 
just  is  nice;  and  there's  such  a  difference." 

Therefore   when  Tony,   having  sat   in  her 
drawing-room  for  five  minutes,  prepared  to 

53 


Master  and  Maid 

depart — not  without  misgivings  as  to  how 
Lallie  would  take  it — that  damsel  nodded  at 
him  coolly,  without  so  much  as  a  supplicating 
glance  after  his  retreating  form,  and  when  he 
had  gone  she  turned  to  her  hostess  with  a  little 
laugh  that  ended  in  a  sigh. 

"Poor  man,"  she  said,  "I'm  afraid  I'm  a 
regular  white  elephant  to  him  just  now;  but  I 
can't  make  myself  invisible,  can  I?" 

"I  think  we'd  all  be  very  sorry  if  you  were 
invisible.  Come  now,  and  see  my  chicks,"  and 
kind  Mrs.  Wentworth  led  Lallie  upstairs  and 
down  a  long  passage  to  a  big  sunny  room  where 
two  little  girls  sat  painting  at  the  table. 

"This  is  Pris  and  this  is  Prue,  and  that  over 
there  is  Punch!"  Mrs.  Wentworth  said,  indi- 
cating her  offsprings. 

Pris  and  Prue  lifted  small  flushed  faces 
from  their  artistic  efforts,  and  surveyed  Lallie 
with  large  solemn  eyes,  and  each  held  out  a 
small  hand  liberally  besmeared  with  Prussian 
blue. 

"How  do  you  do?"  said  Pris  politely.  "I'm 
seven;  how  old  are  you?" 

"I'm  six,"  added  Prue. 
54 


Master  and  Maid 

Punch,  a  rolly-polly  person  who  was  appar- 
ently engaged  in  dismembering  a  woolly  lamb, 
remarked  loudly  and  distinctly,  "I'm  a  boy." 

"May  I  paint?"  asked  Lallie. 

"Oh,  do,  you  can  have  my  seat  for  a  bit. 
You  might  do  some  legs;  they  run  over  so, 
somehow,  with  me." 

Lallie  sat  down  in  front  of  Prue's  picture, 
which  was  an  elaborate  Graphic  illustration  of 
the  "Relief  of  Ladysmith." 

"I'm  sure  Sir  George  White's  tunic  was  not 
pink,"  Lallie  objected.  "They  wore  khaki, 
you  know." 

"I  don't  like  khaki;  it's  the  colour  of  mus- 
tard, an'  I  hate  mustard;  my  new  sash  is  pink, 
an'  I  like  pink.  My  soldiers  wear  pink;  you 
may  paint  their  legs  khaki  if  you  like." 

"It  looks  very  stormy  overhead,"  Lallie  re- 
marked. "Was  there  a  thunderstorm  at  the 
Relief  of  Ladysmith?"  .. 

"My  uncle  was  there,"  said  Pris,  as  though 
that  accounted  for  it. 

"I'll  leave  you  for  a  few  minutes  while  I 
write  a  note,"  said  Mrs.  Wentworth.  "Take 
care  of  this  young  lady;  be  very  kind  to  her. 

55 


Master  and  Maid 

She  has  come  to  stay  with  Mr.  Be  van,  and  she'll 
come  and  see  you  often  if  you  are  good." 

The  moment  the  door  closed  behind  their 
mother,  regardless  of  the  protests  of  their 
nurse,  who  was  sewing  at  the  window,  the  chil- 
dren crowded  round  Lallie,  and  all  three  tried 
to  sit  upon  her  at  once. 

"Are  you  quite  a  grown-up  lady?"  asked 
Pris  doubtfully. 

"No,"  said  Lallie,  "I'm  a  little  girl " 

"You're  a  bit  bigger  than  me,"  Prue  grant- 
ed somewhat  grudgingly,  "but  I  thought  you 
weren't  quite  grown-up.  Punch  is  only  four." 

"I'm  a  very  old  four,"  Punch  maintained. 

"Do  you  think,"  asked  Prue,  "that  you 
could  tell  us  a  story?" 

"Do  I  not?"  Lallie  answered,  and  in  another 
minute  she  had  the  children  absorbed  in  the 
legend  of  that  "quiet,  decent  man,  Andrew 
Coffy";  so  that  when  her  hostess  came  back  to 
fetch  her  to  lunch  Lallie  appeared,  as  it  were, 
buried  beneath  the  family  of  Went  worth. 

Dr.  Wentworth  seemed  sufficiently  awe- 
inspiring  to  the  outside  world,  but  his  family 
took  a  different  view  of  him,  and  Pris  at 

56 


Master  and  Maid 

luncheon  generally  addressed  her  father  as 
"Poor  dear,"  or  spoke  of  him  as  "That  child." 

Mrs.  Wentworth  was  wont  to  declare  to  her 
intimates  that  no  schoolmaster  could  possibly 
be  endurable  who  was  not  well  sat  upon  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family. 

"Personally,"  she  said,  "I  have  the  greatest 
admiration  for  my  husband,  and  consider  him 
quite  an  excellent  sort  of  ordinary  man;  but 
being  a  headmaster,  if  I  didn't  make  him  posi- 
tively skip  off  his  pedestal  his  sense  of  propor- 
tion would  die  of  inanition." 

Certainly  neither  Miss  Prudence  nor  Miss 
Patience  Wentworth  manifested  the  smallest 
awe  of  their  parent;  and  Lallie  was  moved  to 
take  his  side  in  several  arguments  that  ensued 
during  luncheon. 

Prue  was  rosy  and  brown-eyed,  with  thick 
short  hair  that  framed  her  round  face  deli- 
ciously.  Pris  was  fair-haired,  blue-eyed,  with  a 
face  like  a  monthly  rose.  Punch's  countenance 
resembled  a  full  moon,  and  all  three  children 
were  plump  and  healthy  and  absolutely  good- 
tempered.  In  fact,  the  whole  Wentworth 
family  were  rather  roundabout,  which  perhaps 

57 


Master  and  Maid 

accounted  for  their  amiability.  Lallie  en- 
deared herself  immediately  to  Mrs.  Wentworth 
by  her  extreme  popularity  with  the  children. 
Even  the  imperturbable  Punch  unbent  so  far 
as  to  say:  "I  like  you.  You  may  come  and 
have  dinner  with  us  every  day.  You  speak  in 
such  a  funny  voice." 


58 


CHAPTER  V 

TONY  BEVAN  did  not  meet  Lallie  again 
that  day  until  nearly  dinner  time.  It  is 
true  that  during  the  afternoon  he  beheld  her 
afar  off  across  the  College  field,  sitting  on  a 
seat  beside  the  Principal's  wife  and  watching 
the  pick-up.  He  noted  moreover  that  behind 
her  stood  a  little  group  of  the  younger  masters, 
and  that  they  appeared  deeply  interested  in 
her  remarks;  while  her  attention  to  the  game 
was  close  and  enthusiastic.  She  was  in  good 
hands,  and  Tony  was  quite  happy  about  her. 
He  had  a  great  many  things  to  do  and  to  see  to, 
so  he  left  the  field  with  a  contented  mind. 

Mrs.  Wentworth  had  promised  to  keep  her 
to  tea,  and  after  tea  he  had  to  give  a  private 
lesson  to  two  of  the  University  scholarship 
people,  so  that  it  was  almost  seven  o'clock 
when  he  entered  his  own  hall  to  be  met  by  a 
sound  of  music,  and  stood  still  to  listen. 

59 


Master  and  Maid 

It  was  unusual  music:  vibrating,  pulsating, 
mysterious;  rising  and  falling  in  waves  of 
sound  that  billowed  hither  and  thither  like  the 
mist  on  the  heath,  the  strain  now  soft  and  seduc- 
tive, now  loud  and  menacing;  again  humming 
with  the  slumbrous,  slow  drone  of  honey-gather- 
ing bees  on  a  sunny  afternoon  in  high  summer. 
It  was  music  that  above  all  suggested  thyme- 
scented,  wind-swept  spaces,  rock  and  river,  and 
shady,  solemn  woods.  It  was  the  sound  of 
Lallie's  harp. 

He  remembered  to  have  noticed  the  big  case 
in  the  hall  as  he  went  out  to  College  that  morn- 
ing. Who  had  taken  it  out  and  carried  it  into 
the  drawing-room  for  her?  he  wondered.  She 
certainly  couldn't  have  done  it  herself,  for  it 
was  very  heavy. 

He  opened  the  drawing-room  door  and  went 
in,  closing  it  softly  behind  him.  The  window 
at  the  end  of  the  room  was  wide  open,  but  a 
small  fire  burned  cheerfully  upon  the  hearth, 
and  save  for  its  uncertain  light  the  room  was 
shadowy  and  almost  dark.  Tony's  first  thought 
was  of  how  shocked  Miss  Foster  would  be  at  the 
extravagance  of  a  fire  on  such  a  warm  night; 

60 


Master  and  Maid 

but  this  reflection  was  speedily  superseded  by 
astonishment  at  the  sight  of  his  " driver,"  Mr. 
Johns,  and  young  Nick  seated  side  by  side  upon 
a  sofa  near  the  fire,  while  Lallie  sat  at  her  big 
harp  right  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  dis- 
coursed weird  music  to  her  evidently  apprecia- 
tive audience. 

She  had  already  changed  for  dinner,  and  her 
gown — high-waisted,  long  and  clinging — fell  in 
straight  folds  to  her  feet.  Neck  and  arms  were 
bare,  and  beautiful  old  lace  was  draped  about 
her  white  shoulders.  In  colour  her  dress  was 
of  the  soft  yet  brilliant  green  of  July  grass  in  a 
grass-country  where  there  is  much  rain.  A 
green  ribbon  threaded  through  her  dusky  hair 
was  her  only  ornament  save  a  wide  gold  band 
that  clasped  her  bare  arm  just  above  the  elbow 
and  caught  the  flickering  firelight  in  ruddy 
gleams  as  her  slender,  purposeful  hands  flashed 
to  and  fro  over  the  enormous  strings,  with  long, 
swooping  movements,  assured  and  definite  in 
design  and  result  as  the  swift  stoop  of  a  hawk. 

Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  her  eyes  large  and 
bright,  and  as  the  fire  suddenly  leapt  into 
clearer  flame  every  farthest  corner  of  the  room 
61 


Master  and  Maid 

was  revealed  sharp  and  distinct,  and  her  girl- 
ish figure  seemed  a  sudden  incarnation  of  the 
Celtic  muse. 

Tony  stood  where  he  was  just  inside  the  door. 
Lallie  faced  him,  but  she  took  no  notice  of  his 
entrance  till  the  last  long  arpeggio  had  shivered 
into  silence;  then,  in  the  most  matter-of-fact 
tone,  she  remarked: 

"On  Monday,  Tony,  we  must  hire  a  piano." 

Tony  felt  the  sudden  shock  of  disillusion- 
ment that  comes  with  the  fall  of  the  curtain 
after  a  play  that  has  thrilled  the  senses  with  its 
large  romance — the  blank  sensation  that  life 
is  really  rather  a  prosaic  business  after  all.  He 
did  not  answer  immediately,  and  in  the  mean- 
time Paunch  and  young  Nick  had  arisen  in 
some  haste  from  their  sofa,  the  latter  exclaim- 
ing confusedly: 

"I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late.  I  met  Miss 
Clonmell  at  the  Principal's,  and  walked  home 
with  her,  to  show  her  the  way." 

"And  as  he'd  never  heard  a  harp  properly 
played,"  Lallie  added,  "I  told  him  that  if  he 
liked  to  wait,  I'd  change  and  come  down  and 
play  till  you  came  in;  and  on  the  stairs  I  met 

62 


Master  and  Maid 

Mr.  Johns,  and  he'd  never  heard  a  harp  either, 
so  he  came  too." 

"  How  did  you  get  it  out  of  the  wooden  case?  " 
asked  Tony. 

"Oh,  they  unpacked  it  and  carried  it  in  for 
me  while  I  dressed;  and  they've  put  the  case 
in  the  box-room  and  all — ever  so  tidy  we've 
been.  Come  here,  Mr.  Johns,  and  put  it  in  the 
corner  for  me — no,  not  that  one,  that's  an  outer 
wall.  This  one,  by  the  writing-table.  Thank 
you;  that  will  do  nicely.  Good-night,  Mr. 
Nick.  I  beg  your  pardon,  it's  Paddy's  fault; 
I  always  stumble  into  the  wrong  names  that 
I've  no  business  to  know.  Next  time  you  come 
I'll  sing  for  you,  but  I've  never  any  voice  after 
a  voyage." 

Dinner  that  night  was  an  unusually  cheer- 
ful meal,  and  by  the  time  Tony  carried  in 
his  work  to  the  drawing-room  that  he  might 
correct  it  beside  Lallie,  it  was  nearly  nine 
o'clock. 

Everything  was  arranged  for  his  comfort 
when  he  did  appear.  A  table  at  his  elbow  to 
hold  his  papers,  his  chair  at  the  exact  angle 
where  he  would  get  the  best  light,  and  Lallie 

63 


Master  and  Maid 

standing  on  the  hearth-rug  with  a  box  of 
matches  in  her  hand  ready  to  light  his  pipe. 

"Oh,  I  say,  Lallie!"  said  Tony,  yielding 
weakly  to  temptation.  "D'you  think  I  may? 
No  one  has  ever  smoked  in  this  room.  I  don't 
know  what  Miss  Foster  would  say." 

"A  pipe,  Tony!  Surely  a  little  pipe  will  do 
no  harm?  Why,  the  window's  wide  open  and 
there's  a  fire;  and  there  are  very  few  hangings 
and  precious  little  furniture.  Never  did  I  see 
such  a  bare,  stiff  room.  I  had  to  have  a  little 
bit  of  fire  to  help  furnish  it.  There's  one  good 
thing,  it  will  be  a  capital  room  for  sound,  and 
a  grand  piano  will  fill  it  up  a  bit.  Now  sit 
down,  and  I  won't  speak  another  word  till  you 
speak  to  me." 

Lallie  pushed  him  down  in  his  chair  and 
fetched  a  stool  on  which  she  seated  herself, 
leaning  her  back  against  Tony's  knees,  on  her 
own  she  laid  an  open  book,  and  in  her  hands 
was  a  piece  of  knitting. 

For  a  few  minutes  there  was  absolute  silence. 
Tony  Bevan  tried  to  absorb  himself  in  the 
Latin  prose  of  Lower  Vlth  classical,  but  he 
was  acutely  conscious  of  the  soft  weight  that 

64 


Master  and  Maid 

leant  against  him,  and  he  found  his  eyes  wan- 
dering from  the  sheets  he  held  to  the  top  of 
Lallie 's  head  just  underneath,  and  thence  to 
her  ever  busy  hands,  which  held  a  pale  blue 
silk  tie — a  tie  that  was  growing  in  length  with 
the  utmost  rapidity,  for  Lallie  knitted  at  ex- 
press speed,  only  pausing  every  now  and  then 
to  turn  a  page  of  her  book. 

Tony  felt  the  strongest  desire  to  talk,  and 
was  quite  unreasonably  irritated  at  his  guest's 
complete  absorption,  which  gave  him  neither 
lead  nor  excuse. 

The  wood  fire  crackled  cheerfully — Lallie  had 
begged  some  logs  from  Ford — and  Lallie 's  harp 
in  the  corner  caught  the  ruddy  gleams  on  strings 
and  gilded  frame. 

Tony  looked  round  the  large,  handsome 
room  with  a  new  interest.  Hitherto  he  had 
not  considered  it  as  any  concern  of  his.  It  was 
Miss  Foster's  domain,  to  be  entered  by  him 
only  on  such  occasions  as  she  gave  tea  to  visit- 
ing parents.  To  be  sure  he  had  bought  all  the 
furniture  for  it,  and  each  piece,  in  itself,  was 
good  and  possessed  of  qualities  that  redeemed 
it  from  the  commonplace.  There  was  one 

65 


Master  and  Maid 

really  beautiful  Hepplewhite  cabinet,  a  genu- 
ine Sheraton  desk  and  bookcase,  and  some 
fine  old  china;  but  Lallie  was  right,  the  room 
was  stiff,  bare,  wholly  lacking  in  charm.  Not 
to-night;  it  seemed  neither  bare  nor  stiff  to- 
night. It  was  full  of  an  atmosphere  subtler 
and  sweeter  even  than  that  produced  by  the 
comfortable  clouds  of  tobacco  smoke  that 
floated  between  Tony  Bevan  and  the  girl  lean- 
ing against  his  knees.  To-night  the  room  radi- 
ated a  delicious  atmosphere  of  home,  and  all 
because  a  slip  of  a  girl  had  disarranged  the 
furniture  and  sat  there  at  his  feet  looking  the 
very  spirit  of  the  domestic  hearth. 

In  grumpy  moments,  Tony  was  apt  to  declare 
that  in  all  his  big  house  no  corner  seemed  really 
to  belong  to  him  except  the  writing-table  in 
his  study.  Among  the  many  admirable  quali- 
ties of  Miss  Foster,  she  did  not  possess  the 
power  of  making  a  man  feel  comfortable  and 
at  his  ease  in  her  society.  As  a  rule  he  was 
ready  enough  to  admit  that  this  was,  perhaps, 
an  additional  reason  why  she  filled  her  post  so 
efficiently.  The  greatest  gossip  in  Hamchester 
could  not  conjecture  any  matrimonial  compli- 

66 


Master  and  Maid 

cation  with  Miss  Foster,  and  Tony  rejoiced  in 
the  serene  security  engendered  by  this  knowl- 
edge. Nevertheless,  to-night  he  was  conscious 
of  very  distinct  enjoyment  of,  and  interest  in, 
his  own  drawing-room. 

How  still  it  was! 

No  sound  save  the  little  click  of  Lallie's 
needles  as  she  changed  them  at  the  end  of  a 
row,  and  the  soft  sizzle  of  the  wood  fire.  Why 
was  she — gregarious,  garrulous  Lallie — so  silent? 
If  only  she  had  insisted  on  talking  he  could 
have  laid  aside  those  tiresome  proses  with  a 
sigh  as  to  the  impossibility  of  work  with  such 
a  chatterbox  in  the  room.  But  she  was  quiet 
as  any  mouse,  and  Tony  wanted  to  talk  himself. 

"Can  you  see  all  right?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"Perfectly,  thank  you,"  and  she  never 
turned  her  head. 

Silence  again,  while  Tony  smoked  and  made 
no  attempt  to  correct  papers.  Instead,  he 
found  himself  admiring  the  straightness  of 
Lallie 's  parting,  and  marvelling  at  the  slender- 
ness  of  her  little  neck  that  showed  never  a  bone. 

Presently  he  reflected  that  it  was  hardly 
hospitable  to  condemn  a  young  and  lively  girl 

67 


Master  and  Maid 

to  complete  silence  during  her  first  evening  in 
his  house. 

Hospitable!    It  was  positively  churlish. 

Tony  pushed  the  papers  on  the  table  a  little 
farther  away  from  him.  It  was  his  plain  duty 
to  talk  to  Lallie. 

"What's  that  you're  knitting?"  he  asked 
sociably. 

"A  tie  for  Mr.  Cripps.  Isn't  it  a  pretty  col- 
our? Have  you  finished?  How  quick  you've 
been!  I  thought  you'd  be  hours  and  hours." 

"A  tie  for  Cripps!"  Tony  repeated  in  tones 
that  betrayed  disapproval.  "Why  in  the  world 
should  you  make  a  tie  for  Cripps?  You  never 
saw  him  till  this  morning." 

"Ah,  but  we  made  great  friends  in  a  very 
little  time,"  Lallie  explained  eagerly;  "and  the 
old  string  he  was  wearing  was  a  terrible  show. 
He  can  knit  ties  himself,  you  know,  the  clever 
boy,  but  he  always  gives  away  the  ones  he 
knits;  and  the  poor  chap's  awfully  badly  off 
for  ties  just  now.  He  told  me  so.  And  I  said 
I'd  make  him  one  for  Sundays  and  high  days. 
I  shall  probably  finish  it  to-morrow,  and  he 
can  have  it  by  Monday  morning." 

68 


Master  and  Maid 

"Cripps  is  a  humbug.  I'm  perfectly  sure  he 
has  plenty  of  ties.  Don't  you  be  imposed  upon, 
Lallie ;  don't  you  give  him  anything  of  the  kind." 

She  turned  right  round  and  clasped  her  bare 
arms  round  Tony's  knees  to  balance  herself. 

"Ah,  Tony,  now,"  she  expostulated,  "I  must 
give  the  boy  his  little  tie  that  I  promised,  and 
him  so  dull  in  quarantine  and  all.  Sure  a  nice 
pale  blue  tie  will  cheer  him  up  and  make  him 
think  more  of  himself.  A  tie  to  a  boy  is  like  a 
new  hat  to  a  girl.  There's  nothing  cheers  me 
up  like  a  new  hat  when  I'm  down  in  the  dumps. 
Now  what  article  of  attire  most  cheers  you, 
Tony?" 

"I  rather  like  ties,"  Tony  answered,  with 
cold  detachment. 

"Then  I'll  make  dozens  for  you  while  I'm 
here,"  and  Lallie  set  her  chin  on  her  clasped 
hands  and  looked  up  at  Tony  with  eyes  whose 
expression  reminded  him  of  Val's.  "I'll  make 
ties  for  you  and  every  dear  boy  in  this  house, 
and  for  Paunch  too.  By  the  way,  it's  a  shame 
to  call  that  man  Paunch.  He's  not  fat  or  bow- 
windowy.  However  did  he  come  by  such  a 
name?" 


Master  and  Maid 

"He's  not  fat  now,"  Tony  said  judicially, 
"but  he'll  be  fat  long  before  he's  my  age  unless 
he  takes  enormous  quantities  of  exercise;  and 
no  one  notices  a  tendency  more  quickly  than 
boys." 

"Is  that  why  you're  called  Bruiser?"  Lallie 
asked  innocently.  "Have  you  a  tendency  to 
get  mixed  up  in  street  rows  and  to  join  gener- 
ally in  disorderly  conduct?  " 

"I  fancy,"  answered  Tony,  "that  I  got  my 
name  rather  from  my  appearance  than  from 
any  specially  rowdy  conduct  on  my  part.  I 
was  Bruiser  Bevan  as  a  boy  here,  the  name  fol- 
lowed me  up  to  Oxford,  and  was  waiting  for 
me  when  I  came  back  here  as  a  master.  I  was 
only  a  fair  boxer — too  slow  and  not  heavy 
enough  for  a  heavy  weight.  Besides  I  really 
never  cared  much  about  it." 

"I  think  I  shall  like  Paunch,"  Lallie  re- 
marked; "he's  earnest  and  serious,  and  thinks 
no  end  of  himself,  but  he  can  unbend  on  occa- 


sion." 


"Don't  you  go  making  him  unbend  till  he 
refuses  to  coil  up  again  into  his  proper  shape," 
Tony  said  anxiously.  "You  must  be  serious, 

70 


Master  and  Maid 

too,  down  here,  and  be  always  thinking  what 
Aunt  Emileen  would  say." 

"Aunt  Emileen  would  approve  of  Paunch; 
he  is  earnestly  concerned  for  the  morals  of  B. 
House,  and  I'll  help  him  to  raise  the  tone,  till 
we're  so  superior  no  other  house  can  touch  us. 
As  for  you,  Tony,  I've  discovered  already 
you're  a  slack  old  thing,  and  don't  take  nearly 
a  keen  enough  interest  in  these  high  matters." 

"Of  course  every  one  knows  that  P —  that 
Mr.  Johns  and  Miss  Foster  really  run  this 
house,"  Tony  said  dryly;  "I'm  merely  the 
figure  head.  Lallie,"  with  a  complete  change 
of  tone,  "why  do  you  wear  a  bracelet  above 
the  elbow?  I  never  saw  any  other  lady  wear 
one  there." 

"Have  you  forgotten?"  the  girl  exclaimed. 
"Look  there!"  and  unclasping  the  wide  gold 
band  she  displayed  a  long  discoloured,  jagged 
scar  on  her  white  arm.  "That's  where  the 
mare  'Loree'  bit  me  when  I  was  ten.  Don't 
you  remember  'Loree'?  Perhaps  you  weren't 
with  us  that  autumn.  We  called  her  after  the 
poem,  'Loraine,  Loraine,  Loree,'  because  she 
had  such  a  fiendish  temper.  But  she  was  a 

71 


Master  and  Maid 

great  beauty,  and  a  wonderful  jumper,  and 
Dad  thought  he  would  hunt  her  that  winter, 
in  spite  of  her  temper,  though  he  was  a  bit  too 
heavy  for  her;  but  they  were  all  afraid  of  her 
at  the  stables,  and  declared  she'd  be  the  death 
of  somebody.  Funnily  enough  she  never 
showed  temper  to  me,  and  I  used  to  take  her 
sugar  and  apples  and  go  in  and  out  of  the  stable, 
and  she  never  showed  a  sign  of  ill-temper 
while  I  was  there,  but  Dad  would  never  let 
me  mount  her.  Then  one  day  she'd  just  come 
in  from  exercising,  and  I  went  out  to  the  yard 
with  her  apple  for  her.  Rooney  called  to  me: 
'  Don't  you  come  near  her,  Miss  Lallie!  It's 
the  very  devil  himself  is  in  her  to-day;'  but  I 
laughed,  like  the  silly  little  girl  I  was,  and  said, 
'It's  you,  Rooney,  who  can't  manage  her;  I  wish 
they'd  let  me  take  her  out  to  exercise,  it's  a  light 
hand  she  wants.'  I  went  up  to  her  to  give  her 
the  apple,  and  she  swung  round  and  caught  hold 
of  my  arm  with  her  long  teeth,  and  broke  it 
there  and  then — and  Dad  shot  her  that  after- 
noon. Oh,  you  must  remember,  Tony!" 

"I  think  I  do  remember  something  about 
it,  but  you  know  you  were  always  being  bit- 

72 


Master  and  Maid 

ten  by  something,  or  thrown  by  something 
else " 

"I  never  was  thrown  but  once,"  Lallie  ex- 
claimed indignantly.  "If  your  horse  rolls  in 
a  ditch  it's  not  fair  for  any  one  to  say  you're 
thrown;  but  you,  Tony,  I  suppose,  keep  count 
of  the  times  you  stick  on,  not  the  times  you 
come  off." 

"Well,  you  were  always  in  the  wars,  any- 
how, so  that  perhaps  the  accidents,  being  so 
numerous,  impressed  me  less  than  they  ought 
to  have  done.  But  that  was  a  horrid  thing. 
Still,  you  know,  I  think  the  scar  is  less  notice- 
able than  the  bracelet." 

"Oh,  the  bracelet's  Dad's  affair.  He  can't 
bear  to  see  anything  ugly;  and  when  I  had  my 
first  proper  evening  frock  he  gave  me  this, 
and  bade  me  wear  it  always  when  I  had  short 
sleeves;  and  it  makes  a  topic  of  conversation 
with  my  partners  at  dances,  and  they're  always 
very  shocked  and  sorry,  and  feel  kindly  to  me 
at  once." 

Lallie  snapped  the  bracelet  on  her  arm  again, 
and  smiled  up  confidingly  at  Tony,  who  con- 
tinued to  smoke  in  silence. 

73 


Master  and  Maid 

"Fve  admired  you  sufficiently,"  said  Lallie. 
"I  will  now  devote  my  attention  to  the  dear 
Cripps'  tie,"  and  she  turned  round  on  the  stool, 
once  more  leant  her  back  against  Tony's  knees, 
and  the  busy  needles  went  to  click  again. 

"I'd  finish  those  papers  if  I  were  you,"  she 
suggested,  "and  then  we  can  talk,  or  play 
picquet,  or  I'll  sing  to  you,  whichever  you 
prefer." 

"You,"  said  Tony  sedately,  "must  go  to 
bed  almost  directly." 

"Which  means  that  you  can't  work  in  this 
room,  and  that  I  worry  you,  poor  dear;  but 
I'll  go,  and  I'll  be  down  to  breakfast  to-morrow 
and  pour  out  your  coffee  for  you.  I  know  just 
how  you  like  it — don't  I?" 

Lallie  rose  from  her  stool,  looking,  as  she 
always  contrived  to  do,  far  taller  than  she 
really  was,  in  her  clinging  green  draperies. 

"You'll  let  me  give  tea  to  some  boys  to- 
morrow, won't  you?  Paddy  said  you  always 
have  chaps  to  tea  in  the  drawing-room  on 
Sundays,  and  precious  dull  it  is  with  Miss 
Foster;  but  to-morrow  it  won't  be  dull — you 
just  see  how  I'll  entertain  them.  I  think  I'd 

74 


Master  and  Maid 

like  the  nice  boys  who  were  dining  with  you 
when  I  came.  They'll  do  for  a  start." 

"We'll  see  what  can  be  done,"  said  Tony, 
with  unaccountable  meekness.  "Good-night, 
my  child;  sleep  well." 

He  held  the  door  open  for  her,  and  she 
passed  out,  only  pausing  on  the  threshold  to 
remark : 

"There!  I've  never  attempted  to  kiss  you; 
I'll  get  quite  used  to  it  soon!" 


75 


CHAPTER  VI 

TT^OR  five  terms,  in  fact  ever  since  Miss  Fos- 
-T  ter  had  been  housekeeper  at  B.  House, 
she  had  never  left  that  house  during  term 
time  for  a  single  night.  And  on  her  arrival 
at  Hamchester  station  on  Tuesday  afternoon, 
having  been  away  from  the  previous  Friday, 
she  almost  ran  down  the  long  platform  to  col- 
lect her  luggage,  hustled  her  porter,  nor  rested 
a  moment  till  she  had  seized  upon  the  first 
available  cab  to  take  to  her  destination. 

After  years  of  generally  unsuccessful  ven- 
tures in  various  directions,  Miss  Foster  had  at 
last  found  a  post  entirely  after  her  own  heart, 
and  the  whole  of  her  by  no  means  inconsider- 
able energy  was  absorbed  by  B.  House.  She 
declared  that  it  gave  her  scope.  She  was  con- 
vinced that  she,  and  she  alone,  "ran"  B. 
House.  She  regarded  Tony  merely  as  an  ami- 
able figure-head.  She  liked  him;  she  knew  him 
to  be  honourable  and  well-meaning,  and  had 

76 


Master  and  Maid 

found  him  generous  in  his  business  relations, 
and  of  course  he  was  necessary,  as  otherwise 
she,  herself,  might  not  have  been  there;  nev- 
ertheless, in  her  heart  of  hearts  she  was  con- 
vinced that  she,  and  she  alone,  kept  the  ma- 
chinery of  B.  House  in  working  order.  Tony 
was  far  too  easy-going,  far  too  easily  imposed 
upon.  She  distrusted  the  matron,  and  for  Mr. 
Johns  she  felt  an  irritated  sort  of  contempt, 
which  she  was  at  small  pains  to  conceal:  did 
not  this  misguided  young  man  dare  to  enter- 
tain the  incredibly  conceited  notion  that  he 
ran  B.  House?  This  in  itself  was  more  than 
enough  to  condemn  him  in  Miss  Foster's  eyes. 

A  handsome  woman,  tall,  plump,  fresh-col- 
oured, she  made  no  attempt  to  look  younger 
than  her  forty-nine  years.  She  wore  her  plen- 
tiful grey  hair  dressed  high  over  a  cushion,  well 
waved  and  beautifully  arranged;  no  one  ever 
saw  Miss  Foster  with  an  untidy  head.  Her 
hats  were  always  large  and  imposing,  and  oc- 
casionally becoming;  her  dresses  rich,  rustling, 
sober  in  colour,  and  thoroughly  well  made. 

"All  must  have  gone  smoothly  in  my  ab- 
sence," she  thought  complacently  as  she  sat  in 

77 


Master  and  Maid 

the  jolting  cab.  "Mr.  Bevan  faithfully  prom- 
ised that  if  there  was  illness  of  any  kind  he 
would  telegraph  at  once.  Cripps  can't  have 
got  the  mumps.  He  probably  won't  get  it, 
and  if  he  does  it  can't  spread  as  he  was  quar- 
antined at  once.  I  hope  Matron  has  been 
strict  about  the  quarantine.  I  always  mistrust 
these  hospital-trained  people  when  left  to  them- 
selves; one  has  to  be  ever  on  the  watch.  Ah, 
here  we  are!" 

Before  Miss  Foster  could  descend  from  the 
cab  Ford  appeared  to  help  her  with  her  smaller 
baggage.  Ford  looked  particularly  trim  and 
smiling  that  afternoon  in  a  nice  new  muslin 
apron  and  cap. 

"All  well,  Ford?"  Miss  Foster  remarked 
genially,  without  waiting  for  an  answer.  "  You 
may  bring  tea  at  once  to  the  drawing-room; 
I'll  have  it  before  I  go  upstairs." 

She  crossed  the  hall  and  opened  the  drawing- 
room  door,  but  she  did  not  enter  the  room. 
Instead  she  stood  transfixed  upon  the  thresh- 
old and  sniffed  dubiously. 

The  windows  were  open  according  to  her  in- 
structions whenever  the  room  was  untenanted. 

78 


Master  and  Maid 

Notwithstanding  this,  there  was  a  very  strong 
smell  of  violets.  To  most  people  this  is  an 
agreeable  odour,  but  Miss  Foster  mistrusted  the 
presence  of  violets  at  all.  Why  should  there 
be  violets  in  her  drawing-room  during  her 
absence? 

A  few  steps  farther  revealed  to  her  aston- 
ished gaze  that  the  room  was  not  as  she  had 
left  it.  The  furniture  had  been  changed  as  to 
position,  disarranged,  increased! 

Miss  Foster  was  not  fond  of  music,  and  she 
beheld  with  positive  dismay  that  a  grand  piano, 
open,  with  long  lid  slanted  upwards,  was  placed 
athwart  the  inner  wall.  A  huge  harp  stood 
just  behind  it,  and  an  unfamiliar  bulging  green 
silk  bag  was  flung  on  the  Chesterfield,  where 
it  sprawled  in  flagrant  publicity.  The  over- 
powering scent  of  violets  was  easily  traceable 
to  a  large  china  bowl,  full  of  that  modest 
flower,  which  stood  on  a  little  table,  moved 
from  its  accustomed  place  against  the  wall 
close  to  a  big  chair  by  the  fireplace.  More- 
over, on  that  table,  cheek  by  jowl  with  the 
violets,  lay  a  tin  of  "Player's  Navy  Cut,"  a 
common  box  of  kitchen  matches,  an  ash-tray, 

79 


Master  and  Maid 

and  a  very  brown  meershaum  pipe.  Miss  Fos- 
ter passed  her  hand  over  her  eyes  to  make  sure 
that  these  things  were  not  an  hallucination,  and 
at  that  moment  Ford  came  in,  bearing  tea. 

"What  on  earth  is  the  meaning  of  all  this, 
Ford?"  poor  Miss  Foster  exclaimed,  waving 
her  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  piano. 

"It's  been  got  for  Miss  Clonmell,  'm.  This 
morning  the  men  brought  the  piano;  she 
brought  'er  'arp  with  her." 

" Who  brought  a  harp?"  Miss  Foster  cried 
irritably,  as  though  she  could  hardly  believe 
her  ears .  ' '  Ford,  what  are  you  talking  about  ? ' ' 

"Miss  Clonmell,  miss — the  young  lady  as 
have  come  to  live  here." 

"A  young  lady!  To  live  here!  But  who  is 
she,  and  when  did  she  come,  and  why  have  I 
been  told  nothing  about  it?" 

"She's  sister  to  the  Mr.  Clonmell  what  was 
here  last  term,  'm,  and  she  came  unexpected 
like  on  Friday  evening,  while  Mr.  Bevan  was 
at  dinner.  He  didn't  expect  her  any  more 
than  you,  miss." 

"But  what  in  the  world  has  she  come  for? 
She  can't  stay  here.  Where  is  she?" 

80 


Master  and  Maid 

"I  don't  exactly  know  'm,"  Ford  answered, 
with  demure  enjoyment  of  the  situation.  "Mrs. 
Wentworth  came  directly  after  luncheon,  'm, 
and  took  her  out.  Miss  Clonmell  said  as  I  was 
to  ask  you  not  to  wait  tea  if  you  came  before 
she  got  back,  as  she'll  probably  have  hers  with 
Mrs.  Wentworth." 

"Wait  tea!"  Miss  Foster  repeated,  in  tones 
that  expressed  volumes  of  determination  to  do 
nothing  of  the  kind.  "This  is  the  most  ex- 
traordinary thing  I  ever  heard  of.  What  is 
she  like?" 

"Oh,  a  very  nice  young  lady,  'm.  No  one 
could  Jelp  liking  'er.  The  'ouse  seems  a  dif- 
ferent place  since  she  come,  so  much  livelier; 
and  she  sings  and  plays  something  beauti- 
ful  " 

"I  should  think  it  does  seem  a  different 
place,"  Miss  Foster  remarked  grimly;  "that 
horrible  harp  makes  my  drawing-room  look 
like  the  deck  of  a  penny  steamer.  It  can't 
stay  here,  that's  certain.  However,  I'll  have 
tea  now — I  need  it.  Whenever  Mr.  Bevan 
comes  in,  Ford,  ask  him  to  be  good  enough  to 
speak  to  me  at  once." 

81 


Master  and  Maid 

Miss  Foster  sat  in  her  accustomed  chair  and 
made  tea.  The  tea  was  good  and  refreshing, 
but  although  she  had  purposely  turned  her  back 
to  the  obnoxious  musical  instruments  she  felt 
uncomfortably  conscious  of  their  presence. 
There  they  were  like  a  draught  blowing  down 
her  back.  A  harp,  too!  In  Miss  Foster's 
mind  harps  were  associated  mainly  with  men- 
dicity and  the  bars  of  public-houses.  Not  that 
she  had  the  smallest  personal  knowledge  of 
such  objectionable  places;  but  she  was  certain 
that  the  horrid  people  who  frequented  them 
played  and  listened  to  the  harp.  It  was  prob- 
ably their  favourite  instrument,  and  it  was 
more  likely  that  during  their  disreputable  orgies 
they  even  danced  to  its  throbbing  strains. 

Miss  Foster,  who  had  never  been  out  of  her 
own  country,  was  one  of  those  persons  who  in- 
evitably associate  Scotland  with  plaids  and 
porridge,  and  Ireland  with  pigs  and  shillelaghs. 

"An  unsatisfactory,  ungrateful,  untrust- 
worthy race,  the  Irish,"  she  reflected;  "and 
if  the  sister  is  half  as  troublesome  as  the 
brother — and  being  a  girl  she  is  certain  to  be 
ten  times  more  so;  I  detest  girls — the  pros- 

82 


Master  and  Maid 

pect  is  far  from  pleasing.  What  I  cannot  un- 
derstand is  the  underhand  behaviour  of  Mr. 
Be  van.  This  girl  can't  have  dropped  from  the 
clouds,  and  I  consider  it  most  ungentlemanly 
of  him  not  to  have  given  me  some  warning. 
He  might  at  least  have  written  to  tell  me 
of  her  arrival,  and  I  would  have  come  back 
yesterday.  However,  I  don't  fancy  her  visit 
will  be  a  very  long  one  now  that  I  have  come 
back." 

She  took  a  vigorous  bite  out  of  her  piece  of 
bread  and  butter,  and  stirred  her  tea  with  a 
determination  that  boded  ill  for  the  interloper. 
Yet,  resolute  woman  as  she  was,  she  still  smelt 
the  violets  and  was  aware  of  the  grand  piano  in 
the  background. 

She  had  just  finished  her  second  cup  of  tea 
when  Tony  came  in. 

"Ah,  Miss  Foster,  it's  nice  to  see  you  back 
again.  I  hope  the  wedding  went  off  well — you 
had  a  lovely  day.  I'm  just  in  time  to  beg  for 
a  cup  of  tea.  I  suppose  Ford  has  told  you  of 
the  addition  to  our  party;  I  didn't  write,  as 
you  were  away  for  such  a  brief  holiday;  it 
seemed  too  bad  to  bother  you." 

83 


Master  and  Maid 

Somehow  Miss  Foster  found  it  impossible  to 
say  all  the  bitter  things  to  Tony  that  she  had 
been  preparing.  He  was  so  friendly,  so  kind, 
so  interested  in  all  her  doings.  Besides,  he 
explained  at  once  how  Lallie's  sudden  appear- 
ance had  been  as  great  a  surprise  to  him  as  to 
Miss  Foster,  and  she  was  fain  to  believe  him; 
but  none  the  less  did  she  determine  that  the 
said  visit  should  be  brief  as  unexpected. 

Tony  took  it  for  granted  she  would  do  her 
best  for  the  girl.  So  she  would.  It  would 
certainly  be  best  for  the  girl  and  for  B.  House 
that  the  girl's  visit  should  not  be  unduly  pro- 
longed. When  Tony  left  the  drawing-room 
that  afternoon  Miss  Foster  was  more  than  ever 
persuaded  that  he  badly  needed  some  one  to 
stand  between  him  and  those  who  took  advan- 
tage of  his  good  nature,  and  she  there  and  then 
valiantly  resolved  that,  so  far  as  in  her  lay, 
she  would  act  as  that  buffer.  She  was  still 
glowing  at  the  prospect  of  the  friction  such  for- 
titude on  her  part  would  assuredly  entail  when 
Tony  came  back  into  the  room.  He  might  al- 
most be  said  to  have  crept  back,  so  shamefaced 
was  his  appearance. 

84 


Master  and  Maid 

"I  fear  that  I  have  left  some  of  my  belong- 
ings in  here,"  he  mumbled  apologetically.  "I 
must  have  put  them  down  when  I  came  in  to 
speak  to  Lallie,  after  lunch — and  forgotten 
them." 

Oh,  mendacious  Tony!  when  he  knew  per- 
fectly well  that  those  "belongings"  had  been 
left  on  that  table  ever  since  Lallie's  second 
evening  in  B.  House,  and  he  had  smoked  there 
ruthlessly  every  evening  since. 

"It  doesn't  matter  in  the  least,"  Miss  Ford 
said  graciously;  "one  couldn't  smell  even  to- 
bacco with  these  overpowering  flowers.  I 
really  must  ask  Ford  to  throw  them  out;  they 
are  enough  to  give  us  all  hay-fever." 

Tony  fled. 


85 


CHAPTER  VII 

AN"  hour  later  Tony  sat  at  his  study  table 
offering  sacrifices  propitiatory  to  parental 
anxiety  amid  clouds  of  smoke,  with  a  pile  of 
unanswered  letters  at  his  elbow. 

Lallie  peeped  in. 

"Has  she  come,  Tony?"  she  whispered. 

"She  has,"  he  remarked  briefly,  whereupon 
Lallie  vanished  again,  with  a  muttered  excla- 
mation. 

In  the  passage  she  met  Mr.  Johns  on  his  way 
to  take  prep.;  she  seized  him  by  the  arm, 
whispering  beseechingly: 

"Come  with  me  to  the  drawing-room  just 
for  a  minute,  there's  a  dear  kind  man.  I'm 
petrified  with  terror,  and  Tony's  busy.  Don't 
leave  me  to  go  in  all  by  myself." 

"Certainly  not,"  Mr.  Johns  replied  reassur- 
ingly; "I  can't  stay,  I'm  afraid,  but  I'll  come 
into  the  drawing-room  with  you  with  pleasure. 
If  it's  the  dark  you're  afraid  of,  and  it  soon  gets 

86 


Master  and  Maid 

dark  now,  I'll  turn  on  the  light;  it's  just  in- 
side the  door." 

Lallie  gave  a  smothered  laugh,  but  never- 
theless she  kept  a  tight  hold  of  Mr.  Johns  till 
he  had  opened  the  drawing-room  door  and 
turned  on  the  light.  Then  she  drew  her  hand 
from  his  arm  and  sailed  into  the  room  with  her 
head  in  the  air.  The  room  was  untenanted. 

"She's  not  here  at  all,"  Lallie  said  blankly; 
then  to  the  somewhat  flustered  young  master 
who  had  followed  her  in:  "I'll  not  detain  you 
further,  Mr.  Johns,"  she  remarked  airily;  "I 
know  you  are  much  occupied.  It  was  kind  of 
you  to  show  me  the  way." 

Somewhat  huffed  at  this  abrupt  dismissal 
after  so  effusive  a  greeting,  Mr.  Johns  swung 
round  hastily,  only  to  cannon  with  consider- 
able violence  against  Miss  Foster,  who,  un- 
heard by  him,  had  just  entered  the  room. 
Lallie  stood  magisterially  upon  the  hearthrug 
while  they  disentangled  themselves,  and  Mr. 
Johns  muttered  apologies  which  were  loftily 
ignored  by  the  lady. 

Miss  Foster  was  intensely  annoyed.  No  one 
appears  to  advantage  who  has  just  been  vig- 

87 


Master  and  Maid 

orously  humped  into  by  an  International 
forward;  and  although  Miss  Foster's  ample 
form  was  calculated  both  to  sustain  and  re- 
pel a  considerable  impact,  she  was  distinctly 
ruffled. 

Mr.  Johns  almost  banged  the  door  behind 
him. 

"I  hope  he  didn't  hurt  you,  the  clumsy 
fellow,"  exclaimed  Lallie,  in  sweetly  sympa- 
thetic tones,  as  she  came  forward  with  out- 
stretched hand.  "I  must  introduce  myself, 
dear  Miss  Foster,  and  apologise  for  invading 
B.  House  in  your  absence." 

"I  suppose  you  are  but  a  bird  of  passage," 
Miss  Foster  remarked,  when  she  had  given 
Lallie's  hand  a  limp  and  chilly  shake. 

"That  depends,"  said  Lallie  gaily,  "whether 
you're  all  very  good  to  me  or  not.  If  I  like  it, 
I  may  stay  till  Dad  comes  back  from  India. 
He  likes  me  to  be  with  Tony." 

"I  wonder,"  Miss  Foster  said  thoughtfully, 
when  she  had  seated  herself,  "whether  your 
father  has  fully  considered  Mr.  Bevan's  many 
responsibilities.  A  house  like  this — "  Miss 
Foster  paused. 

88 


Master  and  Maid 

"It  seems  a  comfortable  house,"  Lallie  sug- 
gested helpfully,  "though  'tis  a  bit  cold.  Shall 
I  set  a  match  to  the  fire?"  and  Lallie  flew  to 
the  little  table — but  the  matches  were  gone. 

"Pray  don't,"  Miss  Foster  exclaimed,  "I 
never  start  fires  before  the  first  of  October." 

"But  if  it's  cold?"  Lallie  expostulated. 

"That,  Miss  Clonmell,  is  my  invariable  rule." 

"But  it  might  be  warm  on  the  first  of  Oc- 
tober." 

"If  it  is  warm  on  the  first  of  October  I  shall 
certainly  not  have  a  fire." 

"But  we've  had  a  fire  every  night  since  I 
came." 

"I  thought  the  room  smelt  rather  stuffy," 
Miss  Foster  said  coldly.  "Won't  you  sit 
down,  Miss  Clonmell?  You  look  so  uncom- 
fortable standing  there." 

Lallie  sat  down  obediently,  and  unconsciously 
folded  her  hands  in  the  devout  attitude  in  which 
she  had  been  wont  to  listen  to  the  discourses 
of  the  Mother  Superior  in  her  convent. 

"It  would  be  well,"  Miss  Foster  continued, 
in  a  head  voice,  "if,  before  we  go  any  farther, 
I  explain  to  you  how  rigid — necessarily  rigid — 


Master  and  Maid 

rules  must  be  in  a  house  of  this  description. 
It  will  save  trouble  and  futile  argument  after- 
wards. You  must  see,  yourself,  that  the  ar- 
rangements in  a  College  boarding-house  con- 
taining fifty  boys  and  over  a  dozen  servants 
can't  chop  and  change;  the  ordinary  routine 
can't  be  relaxed  as  in  an  ordinary  private 
house — though  in  the  best  managed  private 
houses  things  are  almost  equally  regular." 

"But  why  should  people  be  colder  in  a 
College  house  than  in  any  other  sort,  if  they 
can  afford  a  fire?"  Lallie  persisted.  "Tony 
liked  the  fire." 

"I  never  argue,"  Miss  Foster  observed,  with 
superior  finality;  "we  will  change  the  subject. 
How  is  your  brother  getting  on  at  Woolwich? 
I  hope  he  is  settling  down  well." 

"I  don't  know  about  'settling/  Miss  Foster, 
we're  not  a  very  settled  family,  but  he's  well 
and  happy,  and  the  dearest  boy.  Didn't  you 
think  him  a  dear  boy,  and  isn't  he  good  to 
look  at?" 

"From  what  I  remember  of  your  brother  he 
was  quite  good-looking — fair,  wasn't  he?  You 
are  not  in  the  least  like  him." 

90 


Master  and  Maid 

"No,  indeed,  more's  the  pity,"  Lallie  said 
simply.  "He  is  the  image  of  Dad.  You've 
met  my  father,  I  think,  Miss  Foster?" 

"I  believe  your  father  stayed  a  night  here 
some  time  last  winter,  but  I  don't  remember 
him  very  distinctly.  We  see  so  many  parents, 
you  know,  and  it's  hard  to  keep  them  separate 
in  one's  mind  unless  they  have  very  definite 
qualities,  or  are  distinguished  people." 

"Most  people  think  Dad  is  very  distin- 
guished," said  Lallie,  much  incensed  at  the 
implied  slight  upon  her  father;  "but  I  suppose 
he  appeals  most  to  brilliant  people  like  himself. 
May  I  have  my  work-bag,  Miss  Foster?  I  think 
you  are  sitting  on  it,  and  I  may  as  well  get 
on  with  Tony's  tie  as  sit  here  doing  nothing. 
Thank  you;  I  hope  no  needle  has  run  into  you." 

Silence  fell  upon  the  twain:  a  fighting  si- 
lence, charged  with  unrest. 

Dinner  that  night  was  not  exactly  a  hilarious 
meal.  Mr.  Johns  still  smarted  under  a  sense 
of  injury  at  the  trick  he  considered  Lallie  had 
played  him.  He  held  her  responsible  for  his 
collision  with  Miss  Foster,  and  he  came  to  table 
determined  not  to  address  a  single  word  to  her 

91 


Master  and  Maid 

till  she  should  apologise.  All  the  time  he  was 
mentally  rehearsing  that  apology  and  the  form 
it  should  take.  In  some  solitude — place  not 
yet  specified — she  would  ask  him  what  she  had 
done  to  offend  him.  Reluctantly  he  would  al- 
low her  to  drag  from  him  the  real  cause  of  his 
aloofness,  and  through  the  veil  of  his  reticence 
she  would  perceive  the  enormity  of  her  offence 
— veils  have  an  enlarging  effect.  Being  really 
good  at  heart  and  full  of  generous  impulses 
— he  was  certain  of  Lallie's  generosity — she 
would  frankly  apologise,  and  he  would,  as 
frankly,  refuse  to  allow  her  to  do  so.  Mr. 
Johns  saw  himself,  muscular,  large,  and  mag- 
nanimous, in  the  very  flower  of  his  young 
English  manhood — gently  and  imperceptibly 
raising  little  Lallie's  moral  tone  until  her  soul 
should  reach  the  altitude  upon  which  it  could 
meet  his  on  equal  terms.  After  that,  who 
knows  what  might  happen?  And  it  was  dinner 
time. 

At  table,  however,  he  couldn't  harden  his 
heart  against  Lallie,  who  sat  opposite  in  a  high 
white  blouse  that  made  her  look  like  a  school- 
girl. Her  eyelids  were  pink;  so  was  her  nose 

92 


Master  and  Maid 

with  its  confiding  tip;  and  she  never  once 
looked  across  at  Mr.  Johns. 

Miss  Foster  would  discuss  the  dates  of  various 
quarantines,  and  the  preventative  measures  that 
should  be  taken  if  any  of  the  usual  infectious 
diseases  invaded  the  other  houses.  Tony  tried 
in  vain  to  head  her  off  to  other  topics.  By  the 
time  they  had  reached  the  contagious,  or  non- 
contagious  nature  of  tonsilitis,  Lallie  began  to 
look  about  her.  From  time  to  time  she  caught 
Tony's  eyes,  and  her  own  were  so  merry  and 
well  amused  that  Tony,  himself,  began  to  see 
another  side  to  the  germ  question,  which  as  a 
rule  bored  him  to  extinction.  Mr.  Johns  found 
himself  trying  to  intercept  some  of  Lallie's 
glances,  but  without  success;  and  when  the 
meal  came  to  an  end  he  had  assuredly  not  ad- 
dressed a  single  remark  to  Lallie,  but  it  was 
from  lack  of  opportunity  and  not  because  he 
was  any  longer  offended.  How  could  one  be 
offended  with  an  irresponsible  creature  whose 
dimples  were  so  bewitching? 

Tony  retired  to  his  study;  Mr.  Johns  went 
back  to  the  boys;  and  Lallie,  who  longed  to  go 
with  Tony  but  didn't  dare,  meekly  followed 

93 


Master  and  Maid 

Miss  Foster  into  the  drawing-room.  Tony  was 
troubled  about  Lallie.  The  child  look  pinched 
and  low-spirited,  he  thought,  and  she  was  such 
a  good  child.  She  had  tried  so  hard,  so  kind- 
hearted  Tony  assured  himself,  to  fall  in  with 
their  ways,  to  keep  rules  and  regulations  that 
were  all  strange  to  her.  He  wished  he  could 
have  her  in  here  with  him,  but  he  supposed  it 
wouldn't  do;  Miss  Foster  might  be  offended. 
She  was  such  a  quiet  little  mouse — it  was 
pleasant  to  work  by  the  fire  with  her  leaning 
against  his  knees,  with  one  of  those  everlasting 
ties  in  her  hands.  By  Jove!  it  was  a  cold 
night;  he'd  light  his  fire.  Poor  little  Lallie! 
would  Miss  Foster  be  friendly  and  motherly? 
He  hoped  to  goodness  she  wouldn't  talk  any 
more  about  illnesses;  he  felt  rather  as  though 
he  were  going  to  have  mumps  himself.  Tony 
pressed  his  neck  on  both  sides  anxiously.  The 
wood  sparkled  and  crackled,  he  drew  his  chair 
up  to  the  fire  and  lit  his  pipe. 

"You  must  excuse  me,  Miss  Clonmell,"  said 
Miss  Foster,  when  they  reached  the  drawing- 
room;  "I  have  many  things  to  see  to  upstairs. 
In  a  house  like  this  it  is  impossible  to  devote 

94 


Master  and  Maid 

one's  whole  evening  to  social  intercourse.  I 
fear  I  must  leave  you  for  half  an  hour  or  so." 

"Of  course,"  Lallie  said  solemnly,  not  quite 
knowing  why.  "Please,  Miss  Foster,  would  it 
disturb  any  of  the  children — the  boys,  I  mean 
— if  I  play  the  piano  while  you're  gone?" 

"The  boys'  part  of  the  house  is  quite  sep- 
arate; you  may  disturb  Mr.  Bevan,  who  is 
usually  busy  at  this  time — but " 

"Oh,  I  shan't  disturb  Tony;  he'll  probably 
leave  his  door  open  to  hear  me;  he  loves  music." 

"He  has  not,  hitherto,  made  any  parade  of 
his  partiality,"  Miss  Foster  said  coldly,  and  left 
the  room,  shutting  the  door  carefully  after  her. 

Lallie  flew  across  to  the  door  and  opened  it 
wide,  gazing  after  Miss  Foster's  portly  form 
ascending  the  staircase. 

"In  a  house  like  'this/  "  said  Lallie  to  her- 
self, and  made  a  face,  "St.  Bridget  herself 
would  lose  patience,  and  I  very  much  fear 
there's  more  than  a  spice  of  the  devil  hi  me. 
Anyway,  I'm  not  going  to  freeze  for  twenty 
Miss  Fosters;  I'll  get  a  cloak  to  cover  me." 

She  ran  upstairs  and  reappeared  clad  in  a 
wonderful  theatre  coat  of  rose-coloured  satin, 
95 


Master  and  Maid 

embroidered  in  silver,  a  most  incongruous  gar- 
ment considering  the  severe  simplicity  of  her 
frock,  but  it  appeared  to  give  her  great  satisfac- 
tion ;  and  again  leaving  the  door  wide  open  she 
seated  herself  "with  an  air"  at  the  piano,  and 
began  to  sing. 

It  was  surprising  that  so  small  and  slight  a 
creature  as  Lallie  could  have  such  a  big  voice 
— a  rich,  carrying  mezzo  soprano  voice;  the 
sort  of  voice  usually  associated  with  the  full- 
bosomed,  substantially  built  women  that  one 
encounters  on  concert  platforms  or  in  grand 
opera. 

Portali,  the  great  singing-master  in  Paris  to 
whom  her  father  had  taken  her  when  she  was 
seventeen,  explained  it  thus: 

"She  sings  as  a  bird  sings,  but  she  would 
never  make  a  public  singer.  She  hasn't  the 
physique,  she  hasn't  the  industry;  above  all, 
she  hasn't  the  temperament;  but  she  can  sing 
now  as  no  amount  of  training  could  ever  make 
her.  Give  her  good  lessons — occasionally — 
but  only  the  best;  never  let  any  provincial 
teacher  come  near  her.  If  she  ever  has  a  bad 
illness  she'll  probably  lose  her  voice  altogether, 

96 


Master  and  Maid 

but  if  she  only  sings  for  pleasure — for  her  own, 
and  yours,  and  that  of  the  fortunate  people 
thrown  with  her,  never  as  a  business — she  may 
keep  it  till  she  is  quite  an  old  woman.  Let  her 
choose  her  own  songs — Folk  songs  are  what  she 
can  sing — but  let  her  sing  what  she  pleases; 
she  will  never  go  wrong.  Let  her  keep  her 
wild-bird  voice;  don't  try  to  tame  or  train  it 
too  much." 

Lallie  began  to  sing  very  softly  "Synnove's 
Lied" — the  andante  that  is  sung  as  if  hum- 
ming to  one's  self;  then  suddenly  she  let  her 
voice  go.  "  Oh  to  remember  the  happy  hours ! ' ' 
Right  through  the  house  it  rang,  passionate, 
pathetic,  pleading. 

Tony  leapt  to  his  feet  and  opened  his  study 
door;  at  the  same  instant  he  heard  some  one 
prop  open  the  swing  door  that  shut  off  the 
study  passage  from  his  part  of  the  house,  and 
down  the  long  corridor  every  door  was  opened. 

"  Our  world  was  bounded  by  the  garden  trees, 
Then  came  the  churchyard  and  the  river." 

The  big,  beautiful  voice  died  down,  and 
once  more  came  the  quaint  humming  refrain. 

97 


Master  and  Maid 

Again  —  musical,  intensely  melancholy  —  the 
voice  rang  out. 

"But  now  the  garden  is  white  with  snow, 
At  night  I  wait,  I  stand  and  shiver," 

sang  Lallie  most  realistically,  for  the  drawing- 
room  really  was  rather  cold. 

"The  place  is  frosty,  the  cold  winds  blow, 
Oh  love,  my  love,  but  you  come  never." 

Lallie  sang  in  English,  for  she  could  not  speak 
Norwegian,  and  every  word  was  clearly  enun- 
ciated and  distinct;  the  soft  humming  refrain 
followed,  and  died  away  into  silence. 

"Heavens!"  thought  Tony,  "the  child  is 
homesick  alone  hi  there  with  Miss  Foster;  she 
sounds  cold  too — this  is  dreadful!" 

He  hurried  to  the  drawing-room,  expecting 
to  find  Lallie  in  the  tearful  state  her  pathetic 
voice  had  indicated. 

"I  thought  that  would  bring  you,"  Lallie  re- 
marked complacently.  "Come  here,  Tony, 
and  admire  my  theatre  coat  Dad  brought  me 
from  Paris." 

Tony  stood  where  he  was,  staring  at  the  gor- 
geous little  figure  seated  perkily  on  the  piano 

98 


Master  and  Maid 

stool;  at  the  big  cheerless  room,  with  one 
electric  light  burning  in  dismal  prominence 
over  the  piano;  at  the  black  and  chilly  hearth. 

"Why  in  the  name  of  all  that's  idiotic  haven't 
you  got  a  fire?"  he  asked  angrily. 

"In  this  house,"  Lallie  replied,  in  Miss  Fos- 
ter's very  tones,  "we  never  have  fires  till  the 
first  of  October." 

Poor  Tony  looked  very  miserable. 

"I  am  so  sorry,"  he  said  helplessly;  "you'd 
better  come  and  sit  in  my  study.  I  have  a 
fire." 

"It's  I  who  ought  to  be  sorry,  Tony,  worry- 
ing you  like  this.  It  was  horrid  of  me  to  tell 
tales.  No,  I  won't  come  and  sit  in  your  study, 
for  that  would  only  make  her  hate  me  the  more. 
I'm  not  a  bit  cold  hi  my  beautiful  coat,  and 
I'll  go  on  making  music  quite  happily.  Run 
away  back  to  your  little  exercise  books." 

"Try  not  to  take  a  dislike  to  Miss  Foster  at 
the  very  first,  Lallie,"  Tony  pleaded.  "She's 
a  good  sort  really;  and  perhaps  I  ought  to  have 
written  to  tell  her  you  had  come." 

"It  would  have  been  better  to  break  it  to 
her  gently,"  Lallie  responded  drily. 

99 


Master  and  Maid 

Tony  crossed  the  room  slowly,  pausing  on  the 
threshold. 

"I  fear  I  must  ask  you  to  keep  the  door  shut; 
the  boys  heard  you  singing,  and  instantly  ev- 
ery study  door  was  opened." 

"Ah,  the  dears ! "  cried  Lallie  delighted.  " Do 
let  me  have  them  all  in,  and  I'll  sing  them 
something  they'd  really  like."  . 

Tony  shook  his  head. 

"They  must  do  their  work,  and  I  must  do 
mine.  Mind,  you  are  to  come  into  the  study 
if  you  are  cold." 

As  Tony  crossed  the  hall  even  the  shut  door 
could  not  drown  the  cheerful  strains  of  that 
most  jubilant  of  jigs,  "Rory  O'More,"  and  he 
felt  a  wild  impulse  to  dance  a  pas  seul  there  and 
then.  However,  he  sternly  fastened  the  swing 
door,  shut  himself  into  his  study,  and  tried  to 
forget  the  brilliant  little  rose-and-silver  figure 
with  the  wistful  Greuze  face.  Over  his  mantel- 
piece hung  an  engraving  of  "La  cruche  cassee" 
bought  some  years  ago  because  of  its  likeness 
to  Lallie.  He  shook  his  head  at  it  now,  turned 
his  back  upon  it,  and  sat  down  at  his  table. 
Val,  who  liked  music,  went  to  the  door  and 
100 


Master  and  Maid 

whined  to  get  out,  but  Tony  unsympatheti- 
cally  bade  him  get  into  his  basket  again,  and 
gave  his  own  attention  to  the  bundles  of  white 
paper  that  Lallie  had  impertinently  dubbed 
"little  exercise  books." 

When  Miss  Foster  returned  Lallie  was  sing- 
ing "All  round  my  hat  I  will  wear  a  green  gar- 
land," and  accompanying  herself  upon  the  harp. 
She  finished  the  song  and  then  went  and  sat 
beside  Miss  Foster  on  the  sofa. 

"You  have  a  very  strong  voice,  Miss  Clon- 
mell,"  Miss  Foster  remarked,  gazing  with  aston- 
ished disfavour  at  the  rose-and-silver  garment. 

"So  I've  always  been  told,"  said  Lallie. 
"You  see  it  has  never  been  strained." 

"Did  you  say  trained  or  strained?" 

Lallie  laughed. 

"Oh,  it's  plenty  of  training  it's  had,  but  per- 
haps I  haven't  profited  as  much  as  I  might  have 
done.  Are  you  fond  of  music,  Miss  Foster?" 

"I  can't  say  that  I  am.  I  dislike  every  sort 
of  loud  music,  and  all  stringed  instruments 
seem  to  me  so  very  thrummy." 

To  this  Lallie  made  no  reply,  but  took  her 
roll  of  lace  out  of  her  bag  and  began  to  work 
101 


Master  and  Maid 

in  perfect  silence.  Miss  Foster  picked  up  the 
Spectator  and  tried  to  read  it,  but  could  not 
concentrate  her  attention.  Against  her  will 
she  was  forced  to  glance  from  time  to  time  at 
the  quiet  figure  beside  her;  at  the  deft  white 
hands  that  moved  so  swiftly  and  silently;  at 
the  beautiful  work  that  grew  so  fast  beneath 
their  ministrations.  Like  Tony,  Lallie's  silence 
irritated  her.  If  only  the  girl  had  chattered 
she  would  have  had  a  grievance. 

"You  were  out  with  Mrs.  Wentworth  this 
afternoon,  I  think  you  said?"  Miss  Foster  re- 
marked at  last. 

"Yes,  Miss  Foster;  she  took  me  to  see  Pris 
and  Prue  at  their  dancing.  Oh,  it  was  lovely! 
Pris  is  just  like  a  big  soft  india-rubber  ball,  and 
bounds  up  and  down  in  perfect  time,  and  looks 
the  incarnation  of  gleeful  enjoyment.  And 
then  Mrs.  Wentworth  insisted  on  my  going 
back  to  tea  with  her,  for  they  were  arranging 
about  the  Musical  Society,  and  she  thought  I 
might  help.  The  organist  is  a  nice  man! 
That's  how  it  was  I  couldn't  be  here  to  wel- 
come you." 

"The  practises  are  a  great  nuisance,"  Miss 
102 


Master  and  Maid 

Foster  said.  "The  boys  have  so  much  to  do, 
it  really  is  not  fair  to  make  them  practise  in 
their  scanty  playtime." 

"But  music's  good  for  them,"  argued  Lallie; 
"and  it's  not  a  mental  strain." 

"Of  that  I  am  by  no  means  sure.  If  you 
will  excuse  me,  Miss  Clonmell,  I  think  I  will  re- 
tire, for  I've  had  rather  a  tiring  day." 

Miss  Foster  rose,  Lallie  folded  her  work 
neatly  and  put  it  in  her  bag.  She  went  and 
shut  the  piano  and  came  back  and  shook 
hands  with  her  hostess. 

"Good-night,  Miss  Foster.  I  may  be  a  min- 
ute after  you,  for  I  promised  Mr.  Bevan  I'd  go 
and  say  good-night  to  him  in  the  study;  "  and 
before  Miss  Foster  could  recover  from  her 
amazement  at  this  audacious  statement  Lallie 
had  vanished. 

"She's  worse  than  anything  I  ever  dreamt 
of,"  poor  Miss  Foster  lamented  to  herself; 
"and  I  fear  she's  a  fixture  for  the  present; 
anyway,  we  shall  see." 


103 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AS  Lallie  was  late  for  breakfast  Tony  only 
./A.  saw  her  for  a  few  minutes  before  he  had 
to  go  to  College.  He  did  not  get  back  to  the 
house  again  till  nearly  lunch  time,  when  he  met 
her  at  the  front  door,  radiant,  smiling,  her  arms 
full  of  books. 

"See,  Tony!"  she  exclaimed  joyously.  "I've 
been  into  the  town — such  a  pretty  town  it  is 
too,  with  a  band  playing  in  the  promenade  and 
all.  And  I  found  a  library,  and  I've  paid  my 
subscription  for  three  months;  three  volumes 
at  a  tune;  and  I've  chosen  three  books,  and 
here  they  are!" 

Tony  followed  her  into  the  hall  and  Lallie 
held  up  the  books,  backs  outwards,  for  his 
inspection. 

"How  did  you  choose  them?"  he  asked. 

"Well,  I  chose  this  one  because  there  was 
such  a  pretty  lady  in  the  front,  and  I  liked  the 
cover.  And  I  chose  this  one  because  I've  read 
104 


Master  and  Maid 

other  books  by  the  same  author,  and  liked 
them.  And  I  chose  this  one  because  the  very 
nice  lady  at  the  library  pressed  it  upon  me  and 
said  it  was  'being  very  much  read.' ' 

"Only  one  good  reason,  Lallie,  out  of  the 
three.  I'm  afraid  that  pretty  cover,  with  the 
pretty  lady  inside,  is  misleading.  I,  in  my 
character  of  chaperon " 

"As  Uncle  Emileen,  you  mean,  Tony?" 

"Exactly  so.  I,  in  my  character  of  Uncle 
Emileen,  must  veto  that  one,  though  I  haven't 
read  it  myself.  I'm  pretty  sure  your  father 
wouldn't  like  it." 

"I'm  quite  sure  he  wouldn't,  if  you  say  so. 
He's  awfully  particular,  is  Dad;  but  he's  par- 
ticular in  a  funny  sort  of  way.  He'll  let  me 
read  things  that  would  make  the  hair  of  the 
entire  Emileen  family  stand  straight  on  end — 
if  only  they  are  sincere  and  well  written;  and 
then  again,  he  falls  foul  of  wishy-washy  novels 
that  Aunt  Emileen  would  consider  quite  harm- 
less." 

"I  don't  think  he  would  consider  this  either 
well-written  or  sincere,  so  you'd  better  give  it 
to  me." 

105 


Master  and  Maid 

"Dad  says  'tis  women  mostly  who  write  the 
dirty  books — what  a  pity!  But  I  think  he 
must  be  wrong,  don't  you,  Tony?" 

Tony  shook  his  head  mournfully. 

"A  great  pity,"  he  repeated. 

"I  expect  they  do  it  just  for  the  fun  of  shock- 
ing people.  I  like  doing  that  myself." 

"I've  no  doubt  of  it.  All  the  same,  I  hope 
you'll  choose  some  other  method  of  scandal- 
ising society;  and  you'd  better  hand  that  par- 
ticular volume  over  to  me." 

"And  here  have  I  walked  all  the  way  up 
from  the  town,  fondly  clasping  that  pernicious 
volume — Aunt  Emileen's  phrase,  not  mine — 
and  lots  of  people  stared  hard  at  me,  and  I 
thought  it  was  my  nice  new  hat  they  were  ad- 
miring. Here,  take  it,  Tony,  and  you  can 
come  with  me  to  return  it,  and  then  they'll 
think  I  got  it  for  you,  you  old  sinner." 

Tony  glanced  nervously  around  lest  there 
should  be  any  eavesdropper  to  hear  him  called 
an  "old  sinner";  but  the  doors  were  all  shut 
and  the  hall  empty. 

"Certainly  I'll  come  with  you  to-morrow;  I 
couldn't  possibly  come  to-day,  I  was  so  busy. 
106 


Master  and  Maid 

Why  are  you  always  in  such  a  hurry,  Lallie?  I 
subscribe  to  that  library;  no  one  ever  gets  out 
any  books  except  Miss  Foster;  and  there  you 
go  paying  another  subscription.  What  waste! 
And  why  did  you  go  by  yourself?" 

"And  who  was  there  to  go  with,  pray? 
P — Mr.  Johns  was  in  College.  You  were  in 
College.  I  don't  know  where  Mrs.  Wentworth 
was,  but  anyway  I  didn't  meet  her." 

"What  about  Miss  Foster?" 

"Miss  Foster  went  out  while  I  was  practising, 
and  when  she  came  in,  I  went  out.  Sort  of 
'Box  and  Cox/  you  know." 

"Try  and  go  with  Miss  Foster  to-morrow, 
Lallie,  it  would  be  so  much  better." 

Lallie  had  already  started  to  go  upstairs; 
she  paused  about  six  steps  up  and  leant  over 
the  banisters  to  look  at  Tony,  exclaiming  re- 
proachfully: 

"But  you  promised  you'd  go  with  me  your- 
self to-morrow!" 

"So  I  will,  but  other  days — remember." 

Lallie  went  up  three  more  steps,  and  again 
paused  and  looked  down. 

"For  a  dear,  kind,  nice,  middle-aged  man, 
107 


Master  and  Maid 

Tony,  you're  rather  obtuse,"  she  said.  And 
with  this  cryptic  speech  she  ran  up  the  whole 
flight  of  stairs  and  vanished  from  his  sight. 

What  could  the  child  mean? 

Lallie  had  made  up  her  mind  overnight  that 
she  would  not  bother  Tony  with  any  complaints 
about  Miss  Foster,  so  she  did  not  tell  him  that 
directly  after  breakfast  that  lady  had  sug- 
gested to  her  that  she  should  practise  "while  I 
am  out  of  the  house."  Nor  had  Miss  Foster 
made  any  suggestion  that  Lallie  should  ac- 
company her  during  her  morning's  shopping. 
When  Miss  Foster  came  in,  Lallie  went  out; 
and  having  in  the  meantime  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  she  must  find  amusement  for  her- 
self and  in  no  way  depend  upon  her  hostess, 
she  found  her  way  into  the  town  and  to  the 
library. 

By  the  end  of  a  week  Miss  Foster  had  made 
it  abundantly  clear  to  every  one  concerned, 
except  the  busy  and  optimistic  master  of  the 
house,  that  she  felt  no  desire  whatever  for  the 
society  of  Lallie  Clonmell. 

By  mutual  consent  they  kept  out  of  each 
other's  way  as  far  as  was  possible.  Miss  Fos- 
108 


Master  and  Maid 

ter  took  every  opportunity  of  letting  Lallie  see 
that  she  had  no  intention  of  acting  the  part 
of  Aunt  Emileen  towards  her;  and  whatever 
Tony  might  be,  Lallie  was  not  obtuse.  Subtly, 
but  none  the  less  unmistakably,  did  Miss  Fos- 
ter impress  upon  her  that  to  be  the  chaperon 
of  stray  young  ladies  did  not  come  within  the 
scope  of  the  duties  which  she  had  undertaken 
to  fulfil  at  B.  House.  She  never  offered  to 
take  the  girl  anywhere  except  to  chapel  or  to 
the  football  field,  where  it  was  practically  im- 
possible that  they  should  go  separately.  More- 
over, Miss  Foster  considered  it  a  real  grievance 
that  during  the  services  in  chapel,  Lallie  per- 
sisted in  singing  psalms,  canticles,  and  hymns 
with  her  usual  brio  and  enthusiasm;  and  the 
wonderfully  sweet,  full  voice  caused  many  up- 
ward glances  at  the  gallery  reserved  for  the 
masters'  families. 

Lallie  had  philosophically  determined  to 
make  the  best  of  a  difficult  situation;  but  like 
that  friend  of  Dr.  Johnson,  who  "would  have 
been  a  philosopher  but  that  cheerfulness  kept 
breaking  in,"  so,  in  her  case,  cheerfulness  made 
extraordinarily  frequent  irruptions  in  the  shape 
109 


Master  and  Maid 

of  the  older  boys  and  younger  masters  to  an 
extent  that  sometimes  threatened  to  be  inde- 
corously hilarious. 

Not  once  had  Miss  Foster  invited  Lallie  to 
accompany  her  when  she  went  shopping  in  the 
morning.  In  fact,  her  daily  suggestion  after 
breakfast  that  her  guest  should  "get  her  prac- 
tising over  before  lunch"  had  become  a  sort 
of  ritual.  Thus  it  came  about  that  Lallie 
took  to  going  out  by  herself  between  twelve 
and  one,  the  fashionable  hour  for  promenad- 
ing in  Hamchester;  and  invariably  her  steps 
were  bent  towards  the  very  promenade  she 
had  so  admired  on  her  first  visit  to  the  li- 
brary. 

Tony,  who  generally  played  fives  or  coached 
football  teams  after  morning  school  until  lunch 
time,  was  under  the  impression  that  she  was 
safe  in  Miss  Foster's  care;  nor  had  he  the  re- 
motest idea  that  Fitzroy  ClonmelFs  cherished 
only  daughter,  who  had  never  in  her  life  before 
walked  unattended  in  the  streets  of  a  town, 
tripped  off  alone  every  morning  to  sun  herself 
in  the  famous  Hamchester  promenade,  where 
the  band  plays  daily  and  the  idle  and  well- 
110 


Master  and  Maid 

dressed  inhabitants  walk  up  and  down,  gossip, 
or  flirt  as  best  pleases  them. 

The  promenade  at  Hamchester  is  a  long, 
straight  street;  very  wide,  possessed  of  a  really 
fine  avenue  of  trees,  with  shops  on  one  side, 
and  on  the  other  public  gardens  and  a  terrace 
of  tall  Georgian  dwelling-houses.  The  library 
made  an  excellent  object  for  Lallie's  daily 
walk,  and  if  she  reached  the  promenade  unat- 
tended, she  was  not  long  permitted  to  stroll 
along  in  mournful  solitude.  Before  she  had 
been  three  weeks  in  Hamchester  she  knew  every 
prefect  in  the  whole  alphabet  of  College  houses, 
and  for  prefects,  the  promenade  was  not  out  of 
bounds. 

The  gallant  Cripps,  no  longer  in  quarantine, 
often  found  his  way  thither,  to  the  despair  of 
the  fives-playing  community.  Berry,  head  pre- 
fect of  B.  House,  had  strained  a  muscle  in  his 
shoulder,  and  was  off  games  for  the  time  being, 
and  he  also  fell  in  with  Lallie  with  surprising 
frequency;  and  if  it  so  happened  that  no  boys 
she  knew  were  "down  town"  between  twelve 
and  one,  "young  Nick"  was  almost  certain  to 
fly  into  town  on  a  bicycle,  which  he  recklessly 
111 


Master  and  Maid 

left  outside  a  shop  while  he  walked  up  and 
down,  and  discussed  the  Celtic  Renaissance  or 
more  frivolous  topics  with  this  sweet-voiced, 
frank,  and  friendly  Irish  maid. 

From  the  very  beginning  Mrs.  Wentworth 
had  done  her  best  for  Lallie  in  the  way  of  ask- 
ing her  to  lunch  and  to  tea,  but  she  had  a  house- 
ful of  visitors  during  the  girl's  first  weeks  under 
Tony  Sevan's  roof,  and  had  really  very  little 
time  for  outsiders.  She  had  gauged  pretty  ac- 
curately Miss  Foster's  mental  attitude  towards 
Lallie;  but  when  Miss  Foster  declared  to  her 
that  she  "accepted  no  responsibility  whatever 
with  regard  to  Miss  Clonmell,"  little  Mrs.  Went- 
worth thought  that  this  was  only  "Miss  Foster's 
way";  and  never  dreamt  that  the  lady  could 
or  would  evade  a  relationship  towards  her  young 
guest  that  seemed  natural  and  inevitable. 

Therefore  it  came  upon  Mrs.  Wentworth  with 
quite  a  shock  when  three  mornings  running  in 
succession,  while  doing  the  ever-necessary  shop- 
ping, she  came  upon  Lallie  leisurely  strolling 
up  and  down  the  promenade,  a  tall  youth  on 
either  side  of  her,  all  three  manifestly  with 
no  sort  of  object  in  their  stroll  except  the  soci- 
112 


Master  and  Maid 

ety  of  one  another;  and  wherever  Lallie  was, 
" cheerfulness  kept  breaking  in":  in  this  case 
the  attendant  swains  laughed  with  a  heartiness 
and  vigour  that  caused  most  passers-by  to  re- 
gard the  trio  attentively.  Small  and  upright; 
clad  in  an  admirably  fitting  suit  of  Lincoln 
green — she  was  very  fond  of  green — with  trim 
short  skirt  that  liberally  displayed  her  slim 
ankles  and  very  pretty  feet,  she  would  have 
been  noticeable  even  without  her  hilarious  es- 
cort; and  Mrs.  Wentworth,  whose  motherli- 
ness  in  no  way  stopped  short  at  Pris  and  Prue, 
acted  promptly  and  without  hesitation. 

From  the  steps  of  a  shop  she  watched  the 
gay  green  figure  and  attendant  swains  pass, 
walk  to  the  end  of  the  avenue,  turn  and  come 
back  again,  when  Mrs.  Wentworth  descended 
into  the  arena  and  met  Lallie  face  to  face. 

" Lallie,  how  fortunate!  You  are  the  very 
person  I  most  wanted  at  this  moment.  How 
do  you  do,  Mr.  Berry!  I  hope  your  shoulder  is 
less  painful?  Good  morning,  Mr.  Cripps.  Lal- 
lie, do  come  with  me  and  help  me  to  choose 
linen  for  the  children's  smocks.  You  have  such 
a  good  eye  for  colour." 
113 


Master  and  Maid 

Lallie  dismissed  her  companions  with  a 
cheerfully  decided  "  Don't  wait  for  me,  either 
of  you ;  I'll  be  ages.  And  I  want  to  walk  home 
with  Mrs.  Wentworth." 

The  two  ladies  vanished  into  a  shop,  and 
Cripps  and  Berry  were  left  outside,  looking 
rather  foolish  and  disconsolate. 

"D'you  think  she  cut  in  on  purpose?"  asked 
Cripps. 

"Highly  probable,"  said  Berry.  "I  thought 
this  sort  of  game  was  a  bit  too  hot  to  last.  I 
confess  I've  often  wondered  Germs  or  old 
Bruiser  didn't  put  a  stop  to  it."  " Germs  "  was 
Miss  Foster's  nickname  amongst  the  boys. 

"Germs  hates  her;  any  one  can  see  that." 

"All  the  more  reason  for  her  to  interfere  on 
every  possible  occasion,  I  should  have  thought." 

"My  dear  chap,"  said  Berry  in  superior  tones, 
"you  only  perceive  the  obvious.  I  confess  I 
can't  make  out  Germs.  She's  anxious  enough 
to  interfere  as  a  rule,  but  about  Miss  Clonmell, 
I'm  hanged  if  I  can  see  what  she's  playing  at. 
It's  a  deep  game,  anyhow.  She'd  give  her  eyes 
to  get  rid  of  her;  I'd  stake  my  oath  on  that. 
Poor  little  girl!  It  must  be  jolly  dull  shut  up 
114 


Master  and  Maid 

all  day  with  old  Germs.    However,  we'll  con- 
tinue  to   do   our  best   for  her,   anyhow." 

"I  jolly  well  shall,"  said  Cripps,  and  he  said  it 
with  the  air  of  one  who  registers  a  solemn  vow. 

Mrs.  Wentworth  and  Lallie  chose  the  linen 
for  the  smocks:  light  blue,  the  colour  of  her 
eyes,  for  Pris,  dark  blue  for  Prue;  and  Lallie 's 
favourite  green  for  Punch.  She  insisted  on  be- 
ing allowed  to  make  the  one  for  Punch  her- 
self, and  was  so  keenly  interested  and  absorbed 
by  the  whole  affair  that  Mrs.  Wentworth  found 
it  very  hard  to  broach  the  subject  she  had  most 
at  heart.  The  girl  was  so  frankly  affectionate, 
so  manifestly  delighted  to  be  with  her  friend 
again,  that  the  kindly  lady  suffered  pangs  of 
self-reproach  that  she  had  not  made  time 
somehow  to  see  more  of  her.  In  considering 
young  people  generally,  Mrs.  Wentworth  was  in 
the  habit  of  saying  to  herself,  "Suppose  it  were 
Pris  or  Prue";  and  it  was  marvellous  how 
lenient  in  her  judgment  this  supposition  always 
made  her. 

As  they  left  the  town  behind  them  and 
reached  the  quiet  road  leading  to  B.  House,  she 
took  the  bull  by  the  horns,  saying: 
115 


Master  and  Maid 

"Lallie,  dear,  do  you  think  your  father  would 
like  you  to  walk  up  and  down  the  promenade 
all  alone  at  the  very  busiest  time?" 

"But  I'm  hardly  ever  alone,  dear  Mrs.  Went- 
worth.  I  may  say  never.  I  always  meet  one 
or  two  of  the  boys  or  somebody,  and  we  walk 
up  and  down  together." 

Lallie  so  evidently  considered  her  explana- 
tion entirely  satisfactory,  and  turned  a  face  of 
such  guileless  innocence  and  affection  towards 
her  mentor,  that  Mrs.  Went  worth  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  go  on  with  her  sermon.  However,  she 
steeled  her  heart  and  continued: 

"That's  just  it,  my  dear;  I  fear  he  wouldn't 
like  it  at  all." 

"Not  like  me  walking  with  the  boys?  Oh, 
you're  really  quite  wrong  there;  he  meant  me 
to  be  friends  with  the  boys,  that's  why  he  sent 
me  to  Tony.  He  thinks  all  the  world  of  the 
boys,  and  I  agree  with  him;  such  a  dear  nice 
set  they  are.  Don't  you  think  so  yourself, 
Mrs.  Wentworth?" 

"I  do,  I  do,  indeed,"  Mrs.  Wentworth  heart- 
ily assented;  "but — the  promenade  of  a  large 
town  is  not  quite  the  proper  place  for  you  to 
116 


Master  and  Maid 

meet  the  boys,  and  I  am  sure  that  there  your 
father  would  agree  with  me." 

"Would  you  rather  I  walked  with  them  in 
the  country  roads?  I'm  quite  willing.  I'm  by 
no  means  wedded  to  the  promenade.  The 
trombone  in  the  band  played  rather  out  of  tune 
to-day,  and  it  jarred  me  dreadfully.  We'll  go 
into  the  country  next  time." 

"No,  no,  that  wouldn't  do  at  all.  Lallie,  I'm 
afraid — I'm  very  much  afraid — that  you  ought- 
n't to  walk  about  with  the  boys  at  all  unless  I 
or  Miss  Foster  or  Mr.  Bevan  can  be  with  you." 

"Dear  Mrs.  Wentworth,  would  you  rather  I 
went  about  with  the  young  masters?"  Lallie 
asked  sweetly.  "They've  really  got  more 
tune,  and  I  like  them  nearly  as  well.  I'll  tell 
one  of  them  to  come  country  walks  with  me  if 
you  prefer  it." 

"Certainly  not,"  Mrs.  Wentworth  said  de- 
cidedly. "You  mustn't  do  that  on  any  ac- 
count  " 

"Then  where  am  I  to  walk?"  Lallie  inter- 
rupted piteously.  "Round  and  round  the  Col- 
lege field?  And  it's  often  so  wet.  I  must  get 


some  exercise." 


117 


Master  and  Maid 

"Of  course  you  must/'  Mrs.  Wentworth  con- 
curred heartily.  "You  must  come  out  with 
me;  and  sometimes,  perhaps,  you'll  take  out 
the  children:  they  love  you  so  dearly.  But 
what  you  must  not  do — I  really  mean  it — is  to 
walk  up  and  down  that  promenade  as  you  were 
doing  to-day" — Mrs.  Wentworth  said  nothing 
about  the  other  days — "because,  rightly,  or 
wrongly,  the  nicest  girls  here  don't  do  it;  and 
as  you  are  so  very  nice  I  can't  let  you.  Lallie 
I  don't  want  to  be  interfering  and  tiresome, 
but  don't  you  think  it  would  look  better — it 
would  at  all  events  be  natural  and  right  as  you 
are  both  in  the  same  house — if  you  sometimes 
went  about  with  Miss  Foster?" 

Lallie  sighed  deeply. 

"I  was  in  quarantine  when  I  came,"  she  said, 
"and  it  seems  to  me  that  I've  never  got  rid  of 
the  infection.  But  I'll  try  to  do  as  you  say, 
for  you're  a  dear  darling  and  I  love  you;  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  unless  I  can  hire  an  aero- 
plane and  go  up  alone  in  that,  I'm  certain  to 
meet  somebody,  and  they  always  turn  and  go 
back  with  me." 


118 


CHAPTER  IX 

MISS  FOSTER  really  was  a  much-tried 
woman.  Just  as  she  had  settled  com- 
fortably into  her  groove,  just  as  she  had  got 
the  domestic  arrangements  in  B.  House  to  run 
on  oiled  wheels  exactly  in  the  direction  she  de- 
sired, just  as  the  whole  household  had  learnt 
that  her  will  was  law  and  her  methods  the  only 
possible  methods,  there  came  this  girl — this 
most  upsetting,  disorganising,  disturbing  girl: 
a  girl  as  impossible  to  ignore  as  to  coerce;  a 
girl  whose  all-pervading  presence  was  made 
manifest  in  every  corner  of  the  house. 

Miss  Foster  was  above  all  things  orderly. 
She  made  a  fetish  of  tidiness,  and  her  drawing- 
room  was  its  temple.  She  had  arranged  it  en- 
tirely to  her  own  liking,  and  the  furniture  was 
as  the  fixed  stars  in  the  fabric  of  the  firmament. 
It  really  pained  and  distressed  her  should  a 
fidgeting  guest  move  a  chair  ever  so  little  out 
of  its  own  proper  orbit,  and  she  quite  longed 
119 


Master  and  Maid 

for  such  an  one  to  depart  that  she  might 
promptly  push  the  errant  piece  of  furniture 
back  into  its  original  position.  In  her  eyes 
the  drawing-room  was  perfect,  incapable  of  im- 
provement, and  any  alteration  therein  must  of 
necessity  be  for  the  worse. 

Imagine  her  feelings  then  when  she  came  back 
to  find  a  grand  piano  and  a  harp  added  to 
its  effects!  Even  this  she  might  have  borne 
had  the  harp  remained  quietly  in  some  incon- 
spicuous corner;  but  it  proved  a  restless  and 
ubiquitous  instrument,  and  she  never  knew 
where  she  might  find  it  next. 

Lallie  could  not  move  it  herself,  and  she 
would  ring  for  one  of  the  maids  to  help  her; 
and  once  moved  would  leave  it  where  it  was, 
even  though  three  chairs  and  a  sofa  had  been 
displaced  to  make  room  for  it.  Before  her 
arrival  the  drawing-room  had  never  been  used 
hi  the  morning  unless  for  the  reception  of  some 
lunching  parent.  The  fire  had  been  lit  at  two 
precisely,  and  up  to  three  o'clock  Miss  Foster 
rarely  entered  the  room  unless  to  arrange  the 
two  vases  of  flowers  that  always  graced  the 
mantelpiece.  Miss  Foster  was  of  the  opinion 
120 


Master  and  Maid 

that  there  was  something  irregular,  Bohemian, 
almost  disreputable,  in  using  a  drawing-room 
for  any  other  purpose  than  that  of  receiving 
friends;  and  it  seemed  to  her  to  emphasise  the 
unpleasant  fact  of  Lallie 's  Irish  origin,  that  now 
the  girl  invaded  this  sacred  room  directly  after 
breakfast,  and  that  the  fire  was  lit  before  by 
Tony  Bevan's  orders. 

Lallie  practised  there,  sewed  there,  even  cut 
things  out  there  upon  the  gate  table  that 
hitherto  had  never  been  unfolded  except  for 
afternoon  tea. 

She  would  leave  her  green  silk  work-bag 
hanging  on  the  backs  of  chairs  or  slung  care- 
lessly upon  any  excrescence  that  happened  to 
be  handy,  such  as  the  bell  or  the  knob  of  a 
Chippendale  tallboys.  She  left  books  about  on 
unaccustomed  tables,  and  had  been  known  to 
fling  the  newspaper  outspread  and  sprawling, 
loose  and  flagrant,  upon  the  Chesterfield  that 
stood  in  stately  comfort  at  a  convenient  dis- 
tance from  the  hearth. 

Everywhere  there  were  traces  of  Lallie. 
When  she  sewed,  and  she  was  always  sewing 
if  she  wasn't  knitting,  she  dropped  bits  of 
121 


Master  and  Maid 

thread  and  snippets  of  material  upon  the  car- 
pet, sometimes  even  pins. 

A  large  old-fashioned  footstool  was  placed  in 
the  very  centre  of  the  hearthrug  right  against 
the  tall  brass  fender.  Miss  Foster  liked  it 
there,  and  it  had  never  been  moved  or  even  used 
except  when  some  unusually  bold  boy  would 
sit  thereon  and  warm  his  back  when  he  came  to 
tea.  Lallie  was  for  ever  moving  that  stool. 
Nearly  all  the  chairs  in  the  drawing-room  were 
rather  high,  and  she  liked  a  footstool.  It  never 
occurred  to  her  that  the  footstool  was  to  be 
considered  hi  any  other  light  than  as  a  foot- 
stool, and  she  dragged  it  about  to  whatsoever 
chair  she  wanted  to  sit  in,  sometimes  curling 
up  the  edge  of  the  hearthrug  hi  her  course. 

"A  footstool  by  the  hearth  so  prim, 
An  oaken  footstool  was  to  him 
And  it  was  nothing  more" — 

Only  in  this  case  the  him  was  a  her,  which 
made  such  insensibility  even  more  unpardon- 
able hi  Miss  Foster's  eyes. 

"Why  do  you  always  move  the  footstool, 
Miss  Clonmell?"  she  asked  one  day. 
122 


Master  and  Maid 

"Because  the  chairs  are  so  tall  and  my  legs 
are  so  short/'  Lallie  answered. 

"The  chairs  are  of  the  usual  height.  Chairs 
are  not  nowadays  manufactured  for  pigmies," 
Miss  Foster  said  severely. 

"Did  they  use  to  be?"  Lallie  demanded  with 
interest. 

"No  one  has  ever  complained  of  the  chairs 
hi  this  house  before/'  Miss  Foster  continued, 
ignoring  Lallie's  question. 

"I  never  complained  of  them,  Miss  Foster. 
They're  very  nice  chairs  as  chairs  go:  a  bit 
straight  and  stiff,  perhaps,  but  quite  endurable 
if  one  has  a  footstool.  Tony  has  comfortable 
chairs  in  his  room.  I  wonder  how  men  always 
manage  to  get  such  comfortable  chairs?  It's 
the  same  at  home;  Dad  has  always  the  best  of 
the  chairs  in  his  den,  though  I  must  say  we 
have  a  good  many  that  are  pretty  decent." 

"The  hearth  does  look  so  naked  without  that 
stool,"  Miss  Foster  lamented. 

"I'll  try  to  remember  to  put  it  back  when 
I've  done   with  it,"  Lallie  said,   with  undi- 
minished  sweetness;  "but  I'm  not  very  good 
at  putting  things  back." 
123 


Master  and  Maid 

"That  I  have  already  observed,  Miss  Clon- 
mell,  and  it  is  a  pity.  No  untidy  person  has 
ever  achieved  real  greatness." 

"Are  you  sure,  Miss  Foster?  That's  rather 
a  sweeping  assertion." 

"I  believe  it  to  be  a  fact,"  Miss  Foster  replied 
coldly,  "although  it  is  quite  possible  you  may 
be  able  to  bring  forward  one  or  two  examples 
to  the  contrary." 

"I'm  trying  to  think  of  all  the  lives  of  great 
men  that  ever  I've  read,  and  I  can't  remember 
if  it  said  they  were  tidy  or  not.  I've  an  idea 
some  of  them  were  not.  Goldsmith  now " 

"Goldsmith  was  Irish,"  Miss  Foster  inter- 
rupted. 

"So  was  Wellington;  so's  Lord  Roberts." 

Miss  Foster,  without  being  at  all  sure  of  her 
facts,  longed  to  point  out  that  orderliness  was 
a  striking  characteristic  of  both  these  heroes, 
but  the  fact  of  their  nationality  deterred  her. 

"I  fear,"  Lallie  went  on,  "that  Shakespeare 
must  have  had  a  niggly  sort  of  mind  in  some 
ways  in  spite  of  his  genius,  because  he  left  his 
wife  the  second-best  bed.  If  he'd  been  an 
ordinary,  careless,  good-natured  kind  of  man 
124 


Master  and  Maid 

he'd  never  have  remembered  to  specify  which 
bed.  Perhaps,  though  " — and  here  Lallie  spoke 
more  cheerfully,  as  though  she  suddenly  per- 
ceived a  rift  in  this  cloud  resting  upon  Shake- 
speare's memory — "it  was  his  wife  who  was  so 
tiresome  and  finnicky,  always  pestering  him 
about  not  using  the  best  things,  so  he  left  her 
the  second-best  bed  as  a  punishment." 

Miss  Foster  made  no  reply,  but  opened  the 
Spectator  with  a  flourish  and  held  it  up  in  front 
of  her  as  a  screen. 

"Don't  you  think  that  is  possible,  Miss  Fos- 
ter?" Lallie  persisted. 

"I  must  refuse  to  discuss  any  such  absurd 
contingency.  I  have  already  told  you  that  I 
believe  disorderly  personal  habits  to  be  incom- 
patible with  true  greatness  of  character." 

Lallie  sighed  deeply. 

"It  sounds  like  a  police  court  case,"  she  said 
sadly.  " '  Lallie  Clonmell,  having  no  visible 
means  of  subsistence,  and  giving  no  address, 
was  yesterday  arrested  as  being  of  "disorderly 
personal  habits."  Well,  Tony  would  come 
and  bail  me  out  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst. 
And  yet  I'm  considered  very  tidy  and  managing 
125 


Master  and  Maid 

at  home;  quite  a  sort  of  Mrs.  Shakespeare,  in 
fact.  Everything  depends  on  environment." 

Miss  Foster  made  no  answer.  Literally  and 
figuratively  she  had  wrapped  herself  up  in  the 
Spectator. 

But  the  harp,  the  piano,  the  bits  of  cotton 
dropped  on  the  floor  were  mere  venial  offences 
compared  to  the  sin  of  making  dirty  footmarks 
upon  the  stair  carpet. 

The  front  staircase  at  B.  House  is  imposing, 
wide,  and  Y-shaped.  The  first  broad  flight  of 
steps  starts  from  the  centre  of  the  large  square 
hall.  Half  way  up  it  branches  into  two,  ter- 
minating at  opposite  ends  of  the  landing  upon 
which  open  the  chief  bedrooms,  and  the  assis- 
tant-master's sitting-room.  It  is  a  handsome 
staircase  of  polished  oak — no  other  house  in 
Hamchester  College  has  one  half  so  fine — and  it 
was  at  that  tune  carpeted  with  a  particularly 
soft  and  thick,  self-coloured,  art-blue  carpet 
that  matched  the  walls. 

When  the  master  of  the  house  found  how 
conspicuous  were  muddy  or  dirty  footmarks  on 
this  same  carpet,  and  how  such  defacement  dis- 
tressed Miss  Foster  who  had  chosen  it,  he  always 
126 


Master  and  Maid 

used  the  boys'  staircase  whenever  he  went  to 
his  room  to  change.  So  did  Mr.  Johns.  Till 
Lallie  came  no  one  save  Miss  Foster  ever  used 
the  front  staircase  at  all,  and  she  was  most 
careful  never  to  ascend  by  it  if  her  boots  were 
either  muddy  or  dusty.  She  therefore  saw  no 
reason  why  Lallie  should  not  show  equal  fore- 
thought, especially  as  there  was  no  chance  of 
her  guest  meeting  any  of  the  boys  on  the  back 
staircase,  as  they  were  never  allowed  to  go  up 
to  the  dormitories  during  the  day. 

Alas!  Lallie  showed  no  disposition  to  con- 
sider the  welfare  of  the  carpet,  but  ran  lightly 
up  to  her  room  by  the  front  stairs  no  matter 
how  dirty  her  boots,  and  she  often  left  the  clear 
impression  of  a  small  sole  on  every  step. 

The  third  time  this  occurred  Miss  Foster  met 
her  just  outside  her  bedroom  door,  and  re- 
marked with  some  acerbity: 

"Haven't  you  discovered  the  other  staircase 
yet,  Miss  Clonmell?  It  really  is  the  shortest 
way  to  your  room." 

"I  like  these  stairs  best,  thank  you.    I'm 
not  used  to  wooden  stairs;  my  feet  make  such 
a  patter  it  disturbs  me." 
127 


Master  and  Maid 

"But  look  at  the  marks  your  feet  have  made 
on  the  carpet,"  Miss  Foster  expostulated  in- 
dignantly. 

Lallie  went  to  the  top  of  the  stairs  and  looked 
down. 

"They're  very  little  marks,"  she  said  consol- 
ingly. "My  worst  enemy  couldn't  say  I've 
big  feet." 

"Quite  large  enough  to  make  ugly  and  dis- 
tressing stains  when  the  feet  happen  to  be 
muddy.  Don't  you  see  how  every  mark  shows 
on  that  plain  carpet?" 

"Yes,  it  must  be  tiresome,"  Lallie  said 
coolly,  as  though  she  and  the  footmarks  had 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  one  another. 
"It's  a  pity  Tony  went  and  chose  a  colour  like 
that  where  people  have  always  to  be  going  up 
and  down,  but  it's  just  like  a  man  not  to  think 
of  these  things." 

Miss  Foster  was  really  angry. 

"There  is  no  necessity  for  any  one  to  go  up 
and  down  with  dirty  feet,  Miss  Clonmell." 

Lallie's  cheeks  flushed  pink,  and  the  eyes 
that  met  Miss  Foster's  were  bright  with  de- 
fiance as  she  said  softly  and  distinctly: 
128 


Master  and  Maid 

"When  Mr.  Bevan  asks  me  to  use  the  back 
staircase  I'll  do  it;  so  far,  he  has  not  so  much 
as  suggested  it,"  and  with  her  head  in  the  air 
Lallie  marched  across  the  landing  to  her  room 
and  shut  the  door  very  quietly,  with  ostenta- 
tious care  that  it  should  latch  effectively. 

It  was  a  declaration  of  war,  and,  as  such, 
Miss  Foster  received  it. 

That  evening  Miss  Foster  unbosomed  herself 
in  a  letter  to  her  favourite  niece — the  niece 
whose  wedding  she  had  attended  when  Lallie, 
as  she  described  it,  "sneaked  in"  during  her 
absence. 

"That  girl's  presence  becomes  more  and 
more  irksome  every  day,  and  I  really  do  feel 
that  her  prolonged  stay  is  likely  to  be  a  serious 
menace  to  the  peace  of  B.  House.  You  know 
how  undesirable  and  unwholesome  it  is  for 
manly  boys  to  have  anything  whatever  to  do 
with  girls  of  that  sort,  the  sort  that  is  always 
polite  and  pleasant,  making  them  think  far  too 
much  of  themselves.  It  isn't  exactly  what  she 
says  that  one  can  object  to,  though  any  con- 
versation I  have  overheard  is  always  extremely 
foolish,  but  she  has  a  way  of  looking  up  under 
her  eyelashes — I  do  dislike  very  thick  black 
129 


Master  and  Maid 

eyelashes  in  a  grown-up  person,  they  give  such 
a  made-up  look  to  the  face — that  is  most  ob- 
jectionable. She  is  not  a  pretty  girl,  quite 
pale  and  insignificant,  and  so  small;  but  as  I 
say  she  flatters  men,  and  young  and  old  they 
all  seem  perfectly  silly  about  her,  and  there- 
fore she  is  a  most  dangerous  and  disturbing  in- 
fluence. It  is  particularly  trying  for  me,  for 
the  tone  of  B.  House  has  always  been  so  high 
ever  since  I  came  here;  and  I  cannot  but  feel 
that  this  girl  has  imported  an  atmosphere  of 
noisy  frivolity  and  insubordination  that  must 
lead  to  moral  deterioration.  So  far  I  have  not 
discovered  anything  with  regard  to  the  boys 
that  one  can  exactly  complain  of,  but  I  have 
no  doubt  whatever  that  she  is  sly  and  under- 
hand. The  Irish  are  proverbially  untrustwor- 
thy, and  she  seems  to  me  to  embody  all  the 
worst  characteristics  of  that  stormy  and  unre- 
liable race. 

"People  here  make  a  great  fuss  about  her 
singing  and  playing,  but  I  never  was  an  ad- 
mirer of  loud  voices,  and  particularly  dislike 
her  theatrical  and  affected  way  of  singing. 
'Dramatic'  they  call  it,  but  to  my  thinking  it 
is  simply  unladylike!  I  have  no  patience  with 
people  who  can  work  themselves  up  into  a  state 
about  nothing  at  all.  I  can  appreciate  a  good 
concert  now  and  then  as  much  as  anybody; 
130 


Master  and  Maid 

but  to  have  constant  shouting  and  thrumming 
going  on  in  my  drawing-room  is  a  very  real 
trial.  It's  not  only  herself,  but  other  people 
come  to  sing  duets  and  practise  their  songs. 
Young  masters  who  never  entered  the  house 
before  come  now  and  bawl  for  hours,  because 
they  say  she  is  such  a  beautiful  accompanist. 
They  come  to  flirt  with  her,  that's  what  they 
come  for;  and  dear,  innocent  Mr.  Bevan  never 
seems  to  see  it.  It  is  extraordinary  how  blind 
men  are  to  the  wiles  of  a  designing  girl. 

"As  you  may  imagine  a  girl  of  any  sort  is 
rather  a  white  elephant  in  a  house  like  this, 
but  had  she  been  a  nice,  sensible,  ordinary 
girl,  with  no  nonsense  about  her,  I  would  have 
managed.  As  it  is,  I  don't  know  what  may 
happen.  Goodness  knows  how  many  other 
instruments  she  can  play.  I  always  enter  the 
drawing-room  in  fear  and  trembling  lest  a  drum 
and  a  trombone  be  added  to  the  existing  col- 
lection. 

"Mrs.  Went  worth  has  chosen  to  make  a  great 
fuss  of  her,  and  she,  in  her  turn,  makes  a  great 
fuss  of  the  children.  As  you  know  I  am  not 
one  of  those  who  go  about  raving  over  Mrs. 
Wentworth.  I  could  not  truckle  like  some  of 
them  to  that  commonplace  little  woman.  I 
am  surprised  that  Dr.  Wentworth  has  not  him- 
self suggested  the  desirability  of  Miss  Clon- 
131 


Master  and  Maid 

mell's  departure  before  this.  But  men  are 
curious.  They  will  let  an  abuse  continue  till 
it  becomes  absolutely  intolerable  rather  than 
interfere  with  one  another.  It  has  struck  me 
again  and  again  since  I  came  here  how  pro- 
crastinating men  are,  how  extremely  unwilling 
to  speak  the  word  in  season.  Well,  I  intend  to 
do  my  part,  cost  what  it  may;  my  vigilance 
shall  be  untiring;  and  when  I  find,  as  I  have 
no  doubt  I  shall  find,  that  that  girl  has  over- 
stepped the  limits  of  propriety  I  shall  go 
straight  to  Mr.  Bevan  with  the  facts.  Then 
he  cannot  refuse  to  act  firmly  in  the  interest  of 
the  House.  So  far  we  have  been  free  from  any 
infectious  disease.  If  only  the  other  houses 
were  as  carefully  disinfected  and  watched  as 
this  one,  such  illnesses  might  be  stamped  out 
altogether.  Yet  whenever  I  suggest  my  meth- 
ods to  those  in  charge  of  other  houses  I  re- 
ceive but  scant  sympathy  or  even  thanks." 


132 


CHAPTER  X 

MEANWHILE,  Tony  was  daily  getting 
more  and  more  used  to  Lallie's  presence. 
The  pleasant,  almost  exciting  sense  of  novelty 
had  worn  off,  giving  place  to  a  still  pleasanter 
feeling  of  familiar  security. 

She  would  be  there  when  he  got  back,  this 
girl  with  the  soft  full  voice  and  delightful  wel- 
coming manner,  and  he  found  himself  watch- 
ing the  clock  like  the  laziest  boy  in  his  form 
during  the  last  hour  of  afternoon  school. 

For  years  past,  although  he  lived  in  a 
crowd  and  possessed  troops  of  friends,  he  had 
been  rather  a  lonely  man,  and  his  loneliness 
was  accentuated  rather  than  lessened  when  he 
came  into  possession  of  B.  House. 

"Truly  you  may  call  it  a  'house,'  "  he  said 

to  a  congratulating  college  friend.    "It's  far 

less  of  a  home  than  my  old  diggings.    I  don't 

feel  as  though  a  single  stick  of  the  furniture 

133 


Master  and  Maid 

really  belongs  to  me  except  my  old  arm-chair 
and  my  desk." 

Now,  however,  he  thought  more  fondly  of 
B.  House;  particularly  of  his  study,  where  he 
knew  that  he  would  find  a  bright  fire,  the  little 
tea-table  drawn  up  beside  his  chair,  and  the 
brass  kettle  singing  merrily  over  the  spirit 
lamp.  Not  that  these  things  were  new.  There 
had  always  been  tea  laid  for  him  in  his  study 
when  he  came  in  at  half-past  five;  but  now  it 
was  Lallie  who  made  the  tea,  not  Ford,  and 
Lallie  made  excellent  tea.  Moreover,  she 
always  had  a  great  deal  to  ask  and  to  tell. 
She  took  the  deepest  interest  in  all  College 
matters,  and  absolutely  declined  to  regard 
anything  from  a  tutorial  standpoint;  and 
this  in  itself  was  restful  and  refreshing  to 
Tony. 

To  her,  Tony  Bevan  was  above  all  the  old 
friend  tried  by  time;  "the  best  of  good  sorts," 
"the  decentest  old  thing."  That  he  happened 
also  to  be  a  schoolmaster  was  perhaps  unfortu- 
nate, but  she  generously  declined  to  let  this 
regrettable  fact  influence  her  attitude  towards 
him. 

134 


Master  and  Maid 

She  knew  well  that  he  wanted  her  above  all 
things  to  be  happy,  and  with  him  she  always 
was  happy.  Furthermore  she  had  loyally  kept 
her  resolution  not  to  worry  Tony  with  any 
knowledge  of  the  friction  that  existed  between 
herself  and  Miss  Foster.  He  was  not  much  at 
B.  House,  and  being  of  a  good-natured  and 
tolerant  disposition  himself,  he  always  gave 
other  people  credit  for  being  similarly  well  dis- 
posed until  he  had  ample  proof  to  the  contrary. 
Besides,  in  his  presence  Lallie  and  Miss  Foster 
almost  unconsciously  adopted  a  manner  tow- 
ards one  another  that  was  at  least  free  from 
signs  of  open  hostility. 

When  Lallie  had  been  a  week  at  B.  House 
she  took  her  host's  personal  appearance  firmly 
in  hand.  In  the  morning  she  flew  after  him  to 
brush  his  coat  before  he  went  up  to  College. 
She  exclaimed  indignantly  at  the  "bagsome- 
ness  "  of  his  trouser  knees.  Finding  that  he  did 
not  possess  any  form  of  trouser-press  she  in- 
sisted on  his  going  with  her  into  the  town  to 
buy  one.  And  when  it  was  sent  home,  she 
folded  the  offending  garments  and  placed  them 
in  it  herself.  She  objected  to  ties  that  looked 
135 


Master  and  Maid 

" like  a  worn-out  garter,"  and  said  so.  She  even 
suggested  that  certain  old  and  well-loved  coats 
might  be  sent  to  the  Mission,  but  here  Tony 
was  firm  in  his  opposition.  He  would  buy  a 
new  suit  to  please  her,  but  part  with  his  old 
coats  he  would  not;  and  Lallie  was  far  too 
diplomatic  to  press  the  matter. 

She  tried  always  to  be  at  home  to  make  tea 
for  him  when  he  came  in  at  half-past  five,  and 
cut  short  many  a  tea-party  to  keep  this  tryst. 
She  was  in  great  demand  at  other  houses,  espe- 
cially the  houses  where  the  heads  were  musical. 

She  was  waiting  for  Tony  on  the  evening  of 
the  footprint  encounter  with  Miss  Foster,  and 
when  she  had  fed  and  warmed  and  cosseted 
him  generally  she  sat  down  in  the  big  chair 
opposite  his  and  faced  him  squarely,  announc- 
ing: 

"Hunting  begins  this  week,  Tony." 

"Does  it  really?  How  the  year  is  getting 
on." 

"Tony,  dear,  don't  you  think  I  might  hunt 
if  I  took  out  one  of  the  men  from  the  riding 
school  as  groom — just  one  day  a  week?" 

Tony  shook  his  head. 
136 


Master  and  Maid 

"If  your  father  had  wanted  you  to  hunt  I 
am  sure  he  would  have  suggested  it,  and  he 
would  probably  have  made  arrangements  for 
you  to  have  a  couple  of  the  horses  over;  but 
he  has  never  so  m.uch  as  mentioned  it,  and  I 
can't  let  you  do  it  on  my  own  responsibility. 
I  don't  believe  he'd  like  it  for  you  here  either. 
It  isn't  as  if  I  could  go  with  you." 

"Much  good  you'd  be  if  you  could  go  with 
me.  You  know,  Tony,  you  are  not  at  your 
best  across  a  horse.  As  for  Dad  not  having 
made  arrangements — this  Indian  trip  was  got 
up  and  settled  in  such  a  tremendous  hurry,  he 
had  no  time  to  think  about  me  at  all.  Listen 
to  me  now !  How  would  you  feel  if  when  they 
began  to  mow  the  grass  in  May,  and  the  good 
smell  was  in  the  air,  and  you  saw  all  the  others 
in  their  flannels,  and  heard  all  round  you  the 
nice  deep  ring  of  the  cricket  balls — and  you 
mightn't  play  a  stroke,  and  your  arm  as  strong 
and  your  eye  as  true  as  ever  it  was.  How 
would  you  like  it?" 

"I  shouldn't  like  it  at  all;  but " 

"Well,  then,  think  of  me.  The  smell  of  the 
wet  dead  leaves  and  the  south  wind  blowing  the 
137 


Master  and  Maid 

soft  rain  against  my  face  is  just  as  full  of  associ- 
ation for  me.  And  I  never  go  out  but  I  see  long 
strings  of  horses  in  their  nice  new  clothing,  the 
dear  darlings!  And  me,  ME,  that  has  gone 
hunting  on  the  opening  day  ever  since  I  could 
sit  a  fat  little  Shetland  pony,  ME  to  stay  pokily 
at  home!  Tony,  I  simply  can't!  You  must 
let  me." 

"Lallie,  the  two  cases  are  not  analogous. 
You  can  go  out  riding  whenever  you  like,  pro- 
vided you  take  a  man;  but  hunting,  no.  Not 
without  your  father's  permission.  Especially 
here,  you  are  too  young — too " 

"Too  what?  You  can't  say  I'm  timid.  You 
can't  say  I  couldn't  ride  any  mount  they  choose 
to  give  me  at  that  old  school.  Look  here, 
Tony,  suppose  they  said,  'You  may  play  crick- 
et— oh,  yes,  at  the  nets  with  a  wee  little  junior 
boy  to  bowl  to  you;  but  no  matches,  no  play- 
ing with  people  who  play  as  well  as  you  do' 
— would  you  say  'Thank  you'?  And  that's 
precisely  what  you  offer  me.  Let  me  tell  you 
I  ride  just  as  well  as  you  play  cricket — blue 
and  all;  and  to  please  you  I've  even  gone 
pounding  round  that  ridiculous  racecourse  with 
138 


Master  and  Maid 

half  a  dozen  other  girls  who  sit  a  horse  like  a 
sack  of  potatoes,  who'd  be  off  at  every  bounce 
but  for  the  pommel.  D'you  think  I  call  that 
riding?  Oh,  Tony,  dear,  if  I  could  just  have 
one  good  gallop  across  country  after  the  hounds, 
I'd  be  a  better  girl — much  nicer  and  easier  to 
get  on  with." 

"I  don't  find  you  particularly  hard  to  get  on 
with  as  it  is." 

" Other  people  do,  though" — Lallie's  con- 
science pricked  her  as  to  Miss  Foster — "and  I 
dare  say  I'm  often  a  great  nuisance;  but  once 
let  me  work  the  steam  off  on  the  back  of  a 
good  horse  and  I'd  be  an  angel.  Just  you 
let  me  go  out  with  the  hounds  on  Thursday 
and  you'll  see." 

"Lallie,  my  child,  don't.  I  would  if  I  could, 
but  I  simply  dare  not.  Your  father  would 
never  forgive  me.  It  was  quite  different  last 
winter  when  he  was  there  himself  to  look  after 
you." 

"My  dear,  good  man,  a  hunting  field  isn't 

like  the  'croc'  of  a  girls'  school.    No  one  can 

'look  after'  anybody  else.    You  either  ride 

straight  or  you  potter,  or  you  rush  your  fences 

139 


Master  and  Maid 

and  get  in  people's  way.  But  whatever  you 
do  you're  on  your  own.  If  you  come  a  bad 
smash  there's  always  a  hurdle  to  lay  you  on, 
and  a  doctor  and  a  farmhouse  somewhere 
about.  If  you  think  Dad  kept  me  in  his 
pocket  three  days  a  week  throughout  the  hunt- 
ing season  all  these  years,  you've  a  more  fertile 
imagination  than  I  gave  you  credit  for,  and 
Dad  would  be  the  first  to  disillusion  you.  We 
went  to  the  meets  together,  and  after  that  we 
saw  precious  little  of  one  another." 

"What  about  riding  home?" 

"  Hardly  ever  did  we  come  home  together. 
Sometimes  he  got  home  first,  sometimes  I  did; 
and  whichever  of  us  was  first  in  got  the  bath, 
and  the  other  was  pretty  sure  to  come  pound- 
ing at  the  door  before  the  early  bird  was  out  of 
it.  You  can't  chaperon  people  out  hunting. 
Why,  by  the  time  I'd  been  out  three  times  here, 
I'd  know  the  whole  field,  and  you'd  be  per- 
fectly happy  knowing  I  was  among  friends." 

Lallie  sat  forward  in  her  chair  gazing  eagerly 
at  Tony,  who  said  nothing  at  all ;  but  from  the 
expression  of  his  face  it  might  have  been  gath- 
ered that  this  prediction  of  her  speedy  intimacy 
140 


Master  and  Maid 

with  all  the  field  gave  him  no  satisfaction 
whatever. 

"Well,  Tony?"  she  demanded  impatiently. 

"I'm  sorry,  but  it's  impossible.  You  can 
write  to  Fitz  if  you  like  and  ask  him  to  cable 
his  opinion." 

"No,  indeed.  I'll  write  and  tell  him  that 
unless  he  cables  forbidding  me,  I'm  going  to 
hunt.  Dad  will  always  do  the  easiest  thing, 
and  I  know  will  never  bother  to  cable  forbid- 
ding me  to  do  a  thing  I've  done  for  years." 

Lallie's  voice  was  almost  defiant,  and  poor 
Tony  looked  very  pained,  but  he  said  nothing; 
and  after  a  minute's  silence  she  continued  in  a 
more  conciliatory  tone : 

"Then  in  a  fortnight's  time  from  next  mail 
if  I  don't  hear,  I  may  hunt?" 

"You  must  give  him  three  weeks,  for  he 
may  be  up  country,  and  his  mail  takes  days 
to  reach  him  after  the  agent  gets  it." 

"And  by  that  time  there'll  be  a  frost;  I 
didn't  think  it  of  you,  Tony,  I  really  didn't. 
In  this  matter  you  out-Emileen  Aunt  Emileen 
herself." 

Tony  rose. 

141 


Master  and  Maid 

"You  have  my  leave  to  depart,"  he  said, 
opening  the  door  for  her;  "I've  a  lot  of 
letters  to  write,  and  those  chaps  are  coming 
to  bridge  after  dinner,  so  I  must  do  them 


now." 


"Well,  I  think  you're  horrid,  and  if  a  slate 
falls  on  my  head  and  kills  me  when  I'm  out 
walking,  just  you  reflect  how  nice  and  safe  I'd 
have  been  if  I'd  had  my  own  way  and  been  out 
in  the  open  country." 

"I'll  risk  the  slate,"  Tony  remarked  unfeel- 
ingly; but  still  he  would  not  look  at  Lallie, 
^ho  stood  in  the  doorway  gazing  reproachfully 
at  him. 

"And  you're  going  to  play  bridge  and  have  a 
nice  time  while  I  sit  solemnly  in  the  drawing- 
room  making  a  waistcoat  for  you,  ungrateful 
man.  You've  never  asked  me  to  take  a  hand, 
and  I  play  quite  well." 

"You  see,  this  is  a  club;  we  meet  at  each 
other's  houses — there  are  no  ladies " 

"Of  all  the  monastical  establishments  I've 
ever  come  across  this  is  the  strictest,  and  you 
call  Ireland  a  priest-ridden  country." 

"Lallie,  I  must  write  my  letters." 
142 


Master  and  Maid 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Johns  came  into  the 
hall,  bearing  a  large  and  heavy  book. 

"Well,  you  deny  me  everything  that  keeps 
me  out  of  mischief — on  your  own  head  be  it," 
said  Lallie  rapidly,  in  low  tones  of  ominous 
menace.  Then,  turning  to  the  newcomer,  she 
smiled  a  radiant  welcome,  exclaiming  joyously: 
"You've  brought  your  snapshots  to  show  me! 
How  kind  of  you!  I'm  badly  in  need  of  some- 
thing to  cheer  me  up.  Come  into  the  drawing- 
room,  for  Mr.  Bevan  is  busy  and  Miss  Foster's 
out,  so  we'll  have  it  all  to  ourselves." 

With  quite  unnecessary  violence  Mr.  Bevan 
rang  the  bell  for  Ford  to  take  away  tea.  Yet, 
when  Ford,  looking  rather  aggrieved,  had  re- 
sponded to  his  noisy  summons  and  removed 
the  tea-things  with  her  customary  quiet  deft- 
ness, he  did  not  sit  down  at  once  to  deal  with 
his  correspondence.  Instead,  he  went  and 
stood  in  front  of  the  fire  staring  at  the  Greuze 
girl  who  was  so  like  Lallie. 

He  ran  his  fingers  through  his  smooth  thick 

hair — a  sure  sign  of  mental  perturbation  with 

Tony — and  he  made  the  discovery  that  he  was 

furiously  angry;  not  with  Lallie,  the  wilful  and 

143 


Master  and  Maid 

inconsequent,   but  with  the  unoffending  Mr. 
Johns. 

"Confound  the  fellow  and  his  snapshots!" 
thought  Tony;  "if  there's  one  kind  of  hobby 
more  detestable  than  another  it's  that  of  the 
ardent  amateur  photographer.  A  man  given 
up  to  it  is  almost  as  bad  as  the  chap  who  wears 
cotton-wool  in  his  ears,  and  is  always  taking 
medicine.  There  were  these  two"  (with  the 
second-sight  vouchsafed  to  most  of  us  upon 
occasion,  Tony  was  perfectly  correct  in  his  sur- 
mise) "sitting  side  by  side  on  the  sofa  with 
their  heads  close  together,  and  that  great  heavy 
book  spread  out  on  their  joint  knees.  Heavens ! 
he  would  be  proposing  to  snapshot  Lallie  next" 
(which  is  precisely  what  Mr.  Johns  was  doing 
at  that  moment).  "He,  Tony,  would  not  have 
it.  He  would  interfere,  he  would — "  Sud- 
denly, exclaiming  aloud,  "What  an  ass  I  am!" 
he  sat  down  at  his  desk  with  the  firm  deter- 
mination to  attend  to  his  letters.  He  drew 
a  neatly  docketed  bundle  towards  him,  and 
selected  the  top  one.  It  was  that  of  Uridge 
Major's  father,  who  wrote  pointing  out  what 
a  steadying  effect  it  would  have  upon  the  boy 
144 


Master  and  Maid 

were  he  made  a  prefect  that  term.  Tony  dealt 
diplomatically  with  this,  but  instead  of  going 
methodically  through  the  bundle  as  he  had  fully 
intended  to  do  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  let- 
ter he  had  received  from  Fitzroy  Clonmell  last 
mail.  It  consisted  of  two  closely  written  sheets ; 
the  first  mainly  descriptive  of  the  sport  they 
were  enjoying,  and  duly  concluded  with  the 
pious  hope  that  his  daughter  was  behaving 
herself.  This  was  manifestly  intended  to  be 
shown  to  Lallie.  It  was  the  second  sheet  that 
Tony  read  and  re-read  when  he  ought  to  have 
been  allaying  the  misgivings  of  anxious-minded 
parents. 

"By  the  way,"  it  ran,  "if  one  Sidney  Bar- 
grave  Ballinger  should  happen  to  call  upon 
Lallie  while  she  is  with  you,  be  decent  to  him, 
will  you?  He  fell  hopelessly  in  love  with  her 
at  Fareham  last  winter,  and  followed  us  to 
Ireland  for  fishing  in  the  spring,  when  he  pro- 
posed and  she  refused  him.  Consequently  she 
is  unlikely  ever  to  have  mentioned  his  name. 
The  frankest  and  most  garrulous  creature  about 
all  that  concerns  herself,  she  is  extraordinarily 
reticent  as  to  things  concerning  other  people, 
especially  if  she  thinks  it  might  be  in  any  way 
145 


Master  and  Maid 

unpleasant  for  them  to  have  their  affairs  dis- 
cussed. They  parted  quite  good  friends,  and 
I  take  it  as  not  unlikely  that  she  might  be 
brought  to  reconsider  her  decision.  You  will 
probably  think  him  a  bit  of  a  crock — old  son  of 
Anak  that  you  are!  So  he  is  in  some  ways, 
but  he  is  also  quite  a  good  sort,  refined,  kind- 
hearted,  and  a  gentleman;  a  Trinity  man,  with 
somewhat  scholarly  tastes.  I  am  sure  he 
would  make  her  a  good  and  indulgent  husband. 
Besides,  he  has  an  uncommonly  nice  place  in 
Garsetshire,  and  about  eight  thousand  a  year. 
He  came  into  this  money  quite  recently  through 
the  death  of  an  uncle,  and  having  now  a  'stake 
in  the  country'  he  feels,  I  suppose,  that  he 
ought  to  be  a  bit  of  a  sportsman,  and  he  does 
his  best  to  achieve  that  character,  although  I 
don't  believe  he  has  a  single  sporting  instinct 
in  him.  He  broke  his  collar-bone  the  second 
time  he  came  out  hunting  last  season;  but  he 
hunted  again  the  minute  it  was  mended,  and 
rode  as  queerly  as  ever.  He  followed  us  to 
Kerry  for  fishing  in  April,  and  flogged  the 
stream  all  day  without  getting  a  single  rise; 
but  he  contrived  to  see  something  of  Lallie, 
which  was  what  he  came  for. 

"Should  he  appear  in  Hamchester  I'd  like  to 
know  how  he  strikes  you.    I'm  so  horribly 
afraid  she  may  want  to  marry  some  impecunious 
146 


Master  and  Maid 

soldier  chap  imported  by  Paddy,  who  will  carry 
her  off  to  a  vile  climate  where  she  would  assur- 
edly go  under  in  a  year  or  two,  that  it  would  be 
a  real  comfort  to  me  to  see  her  safely  married  to 
a  good  fellow  who  could  give  her  all  the  pleas- 
ures she  most  cares  for  and  has  been  accustomed 
to;  and  even  if  he  isn't  a  sportsman  himself 
would  not  be  averse  from  her  fond  father  occa- 
sionally sharing  in  the  same  —  but  this  is  a  very 
secondary  consideration.  A  son-in-law  will  be 
such  an  incubus  that  nothing  he  can  bring  in 
his  hand  will  mitigate  the  nuisance  much. 

"Perhaps  he  won't  turn  up  at  all,  but  if 
he  does,  don't  cold-shoulder  him  —  he  has  my 
blessing.  Give  him  his  chance.  She'll  follow 
her  own  line  of  country  in  any  long  run,  but 
there's  no  harm  in  giving  her  an  occasional  lead 
in  the  most  desirable  direction.  I  wish  he 
hadn't  been  called  Sidney,  it's  a  name  I  detest; 
still,  we  can  call  him  by  his  middle  name  if  it 
ever  reaches  the  necessity  for  a  familiar  appel- 
lation. 

"  Salve  atque  vale. 

"From  yours,  ^ 


Tony  knit  his  brows  and  pondered.    Had 
Mr.  Sidney  Bargrave  Ballinger  already  arrived? 
he  wondered.    Was  that  why  Lallie  was  so  ar- 
147 


Master  and  Maid 

dently  desirous  of  going  out  with  the  hounds 
on  Thursday?  No;  he  acquitted  her  of  any 
form  of  stratagem.  If  she  had  seen  the  man 
she  would  have  mentioned  it.  She  always 
made  a  bee-line  for  anything  she  wanted,  and 
intrigue  was  as  foreign  to  her  nature  as  mis- 
chief-making. 

He  was  worried  and  irritable;  he  couldn't 
settle  to  his  letters;  and  he  felt  quite  unaccount- 
ably annoyed  with  Fitz  for  thus  shifting  the 
burden  of  responsibility  from  his  own  shoul- 
ders to  Tony's.  And  Tony,  being  of  a  just  and 
charitable  temperament,  took  himself  seriously 
to  task  for  having  instantaneously  and  irrevo- 
cably taken  a  violent  dislike  to  the  unseen  and 
unknown  Sidney  Bargrave  Ballinger. 


148 


CHAPTER  XI 

THAT  evening  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Wentworth 
dined  alone.  This  was  quite  an  unusual 
occurrence,  for  their  circle  of  friends  was  large 
and  they  were  exceedingly  hospitable.  As 
there  was  nobody  to  entertain  after  dinner 
Mrs.  Wentworth  went  and  sat  in  her  husband's 
study  and  "relaxed  her  mind  over  a  book," 
while  he  wrote  some  of  the  innumerable  and 
inevitable  letters  that  fall  to  the  lot  of  every 
headmaster.  The  answers  to  parental  missives 
were  generally  submitted  to  Mrs.  Wentworth's 
criticism,  and  she  insisted  upon  his  softening 
the  asperities  occasioned  by  their  frequent  in- 
eptness.  Dr.  Wentworth  did  not  suffer  fools 
gladly,  but  his  wife  regarded  such  things  from 
the  maternal  standpoint;  consequently  the 
headmaster  of  Hamchester  got  credit  for  a 
sympathetic  attitude  he  by  no  means  deserved. 
At  that  moment  he  was  dealing  with  the 
case  of  one  Pinner,  an  extremely  stupid  boy  of 
149 


Master  and  Maid 

seventeen  in  a  low  form,  whose  mother  wrote 
saying  she  would  like  him  to  begin  at  once  to 
specialise  with  a  view  to  entering  the  Indian 
Civil  Service  later  on. 

Suddenly  Mrs.  Wentworth  laid  down  her 
book  and  sat  listening. 

" Isn't  that  one  of  the  children?"  she  asked. 

Dr.  Wentworth,  deep  in  the  demolition  of 
Pinner's  prospects,  did  not  answer. 

"I'm  sure  it's  one  of  the  children,"  Mrs. 
Wentworth  repeated,  and  hastened  upstairs. 

Dismal  wails  smote  upon  her  ear  as  she 
neared  the  night  nurseries,  and  she  found 
Punch  sitting  up  in  bed  flushed  and  tearful, 
and  not  to  be  pacified  by  his  devoted  nurse 
who  was  standing  by  his  cot  alternately  sooth- 
ing and  remonstrating. 

"Hush,  Punch!  you'll  wake  Pris  and  Prue 
in  the  next  room.  What  is  the  matter?  Did 
you  have  a  bad  dream?  Were  you  frightened ? ' ' 

"No,"  Punch  proclaimed  in  a  muffled  sort  of 
roar,  "I'm  not  fitened,  but  I  can't  sleep  because 
she  won't  sing  Kevin.  I  can't  mimember  it 
and  I  can't  sleep.  Oh,  do  sing  Kevin." 

"I  don't  know  what  he  means,  mum,"  nurse 
150 


Master  and  Maid 

exclaimed  distractedly.    "Is  it  a  hymn,  do  you 
think?" 

"No,"  bawled  Punch  indignantly;  "t'int  a 
hymn.  Oh,  do  sing  Kevin,"  he  wailed,  stand- 
ing up  in  his  cot  with  his  arms  round  his 
mother's  neck  and  his  hot,  tear-stained  little 
face  pressed  against  hers. 

"But,  Punch,  dear,  what  is  Kevin?  Of 
course  I'll  sing  it  if  you'll  only  explain." 

"But  you  can't,"  lamented  Punch;  and  in- 
consequent as  inconsolable  he  reiterated,  "Oh, 
do  sing  Kevin." 

"But  who  can  sing  this  song?"  Mrs.  Went- 
worth  asked.  "Where  have  you  heard  it?" 

"Lallie  singed  it.  Oh,  do  get  Lallie.  Lallie 
knows  Kevin." 

"I  can't  get  Lallie  to  come  and  sing  for  you 
hi  the  middle  of  the  night.  You  mustn't  be 
unreasonable.  You  must  wait  until  next  time 
you  see  her — perhaps  to-morrow — then  you  can 
ask  her  to  sing  for  you." 

"T'int  the  miggle  of  the  night,"  Punch  re- 
torted scornfully,    "or  you'd   be   wearing  a 
nighty  gown.    Please,  dear  mudger,  get  Lallie, 
ven  she'll  sing  Kevin  and  I'll  go  to  sleep." 
151 


Master  and  Maid 

Mrs.  Wentworth  and  the  nurse  exchanged 
glances  across  the  cot. 

"Tis  but  a  step  across  the  playground  to 
B.  House,"  the  nurse  said  in  a  low  voice.  "I 
know  the  young  lady  would  pop  over.  He's 
been  goin'  on  like  this  for  over  an  hour." 

Punch  had  ceased  to  wail;  now  he  loosed  his 
arms  from  about  his  mother's  neck,  sat  back  on 
his  pillow,  and  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of 
the  anxious  faces  on  either  side  of  him. 

"He's  such  a  obstinate  boy,"'.he  murmured. 
"He'll  never  give  up  wanting  it,  and  she  can 
sing  Kevin." 

Mrs.  Wentworth  tried  hard  to  look  stern. 

"Daddie  wouldn't  like  it;  and  what  would 
Lallie  think  to  be  fetched  out  at  this  time  of 
night  to  sing  to  a  tiresome  little  boy  who  ought 
to  have  been  asleep  hours  ago." 

Punch  screwed  up  his  face  and  prepared  to 
wail  again,  but  caught  his  breath  and  stopped 
in  the  middle  of  the  first  note  to  listen  to  his 
adoring  nurse  as  she  suggested  in  a  whisper: 

"I'll  pop  over  for  her,  mum,  and  she'll  be  here 
directly.  I'm  quite  worried  about  him.   It  seems 
to  have  got  on  his  nerves;  he's  so  feverish." 
152 


Master  and  Maid 

Mrs.  Wentworth  felt  one  of  the  hot  little 
hands  and  stroked  his  damp  hair  back  from  his 
forehead.  Punch  stared  unblinkingly  at  her, 
and  repeated  mournfully: 

"He's  fevish,  very  fevish;  but,"  more  hope- 
fully, "he  won't  be  if  Lallie's  feshed,  'cos  then 
she'll  sing  Kevin." 

"I  know  Daddie  would  disapprove,"  Mrs. 
Wentworth  said  weakly;  "and,  Nana,  imagine 
what  people  will  say.  What  will  Miss  Foster 
think?" 

"I'm  sure  the  young  lady's  not  one  to  go 
talking,"  said  Nana  stoutly,  "and  she  so  fond 
of  Master  Punch  and  all.  And  he  really  has 
been  frettin'  something  dreadful,  and  we  none 
of  us  can  sing  that  outlandish  song;  and  you 
know  how  he  keeps  on,  mum." 

"Nobody  knows  it  but  Lallie,"  Punch  re- 
peated. "Lallie  can  sing  Kevin.  Oh,  do  sing 
Kevin." 

Mrs.  Wentworth  nodded  to  the  nurse,  who 
departed  hastily. 

Punch  sat  on  his  pillow,  wide-eyed  and  wake- 
ful, with  flushed  round  face  and  tired,  unblink- 
ing eyes. 

153 


Master  and  Maid 

"Would  you  like  to  come  and  sit  on  my 
knee  in  the  day  nursery  for  a  bit,  Sonnie? 
Then  perhaps  you'll  feel  sleepy.  I'll  sing  you 
anything  you  like." 

"I'll  come  and  sit  on  your  knee  till  Lallie 
comes,  then  she'll  sing  Kevin.  I  don't  want 
no  other  song." 

"How  do  you  know  Lallie  will  come?  She 
may  be  dining  out;  she  may  not  be  there." 

"I  fought  you  said  it  was  the  miggle  of  the 
night,"  Punch  said  sternly.  "If  it  is  she'll  be 
back  again." 

"It  is  the  middle  of  the  night  for  little  boys." 

"But  not  for  Lallie;  I  fink  she'll  come." 

Mrs.  Wentworth  arrayed  him  in  his  blue 
dressing-gown  and  carried  him  into  the  big  day 
nursery.  She  sat  down  in  a  low  chair  in  front 
of  the  fire,  with  Punch  warm  and  cuddlesome 
on  her  knee  snuggled  against  her  shoulder.  He 
lay  quite  still  in  her  arms,  staring  at  the  red  glow 
through  the  bars  of  the  high  nursery  fender. 

"Do  you  think  that  little  boys  who  wear 

beautiful  pyjama  suits  just  like  their  daddie's, 

ought  to  wake  up  and  cry  in  the  night?"  Mrs. 

Wentworth  inquired  dreamily,  her  chin  resting 

154 


Master  and  Maid 

on  the  top  of  Punch's  head,  her  eyes  fixed  on 
the  fire. 

"I  fink  I  could  sleep  till  Lallie  comes," 
Punch  announced  in  particularly  wide-awake 
tones.  "Hush!" 

For  nearly  ten  minutes  they  sat  still  and  si- 
lent, then  Punch  suddenly  gave  a  little  wriggle 
and  sat  up  on  his  mother's  knee,  stiff  and  expec- 
tant :  every  nerve  tingling,  every  muscle  taut. 

"I  fink  I  hear  Lallie,"  he  cried  excitedly. 

There  was  a  swish  and  frou-frou  of  skirts  in 
the  passage  outside  as  Lallie,  followed  by  the  tri- 
umphant Nana,  came  swiftly  into  the  room.  She 
flung  her  heavy  cloak  on  a  chair,  and  ran  across 
and  knelt  by  Mrs.  Wentworth,  exclaiming: 

"How  dear  of  you  to  send!  I  do  so  sym- 
pathise with  Punch;  I  nearly  go  crazy  if  I  half 
remember  a  tune  and  there's  no  way  of  getting 
the  rest  of  it." 

"Tint  the  chune;  it's  it  all,"  said  Punch 
magisterially.  "Now  you  can  sing  Kevin." 

"But  do  you  know  what  he  means?"  Mrs. 
Wentworth  asked. 

"I  should  think  I  do.    Oh,  might  I  hold 
him?    It's  a  longish  song." 
155 


Master  and  Maid 

She  was  dressed  in  a  little  straight  white  silk 
dress  embroidered  with  green,  and  her  favourite 
green  ribbon  was  threaded  through  her  hair. 
Slender  arms  and  neck  were  bare,  and  her 
cheeks  flushed  with  her  run  across  the  play- 
ground in  the  cold  air.  She  might  have  been 
Deirdre  herself,  product  of  sun  and  dew  and 
woodland  moss,  so  fresh  and  sparkling  was  she. 
Punch  held  out  his  arms  to  her. 

"I  knowed  you'd  come,"  he  cried  trium- 
phantly; "an'  you  wouldn't  be  in  bed,  nor  out, 
nor  nuffin'  like  they  said.  I  knowed  you'd 
come." 

Mrs.  Wentworth  gave  Lallie  her  chair,  and 
then  Punch  to  cuddle,  and  forthwith  Lallie 
burst  into  a  rollicking  tune  and  the  legend: 

"As  Saint  Kevin  was  a  wanderin'  by  the  shores  of  Glenda- 

lough, 

He  met  one  King  O'Toole  and  he  axed  him  for  a  schough; 
Says  the  King,  'You  are  a  sthranger  and  your  face  I've 

never  seen, 
But  if  you've  got  a  bit  of  weed  I'll  lend  you  my  dhudeenl'  " 

To  Punch  the  whole  thing  was  vivid  as  an 
experience.    He  saw  as  in  a  vision  the  wind- 
swept shores  of  Glendalough.  The  only  "  lough  " 
156 


Master  and  Maid 

he  had  ever  really  seen  was  an  ornamental  lake 
in  the  town  gardens,  but  Lallie  had  told  him 
that  King  O'Toole's  lough  was  a  hundred  times 
as  big  as  that,  so  Punch  pictured  something 
very  vast  indeed.  She  had  not  explained  what 
"schough"  was  and  he  had  not  asked,  for  he 
concluded  it  was  some  kind  of  bonfire  from  the 
context. 

"As  the  Saint  was  lighting  up  the  fire  the  monarch  heaved 

a  sigh. 
'Is  there  anyt'ing  the  matter,'  says  the  Saint,  'that  makes 

you  cry?' 
Says  the  King,  'I  had  a  ghander  as  was  left  me  by  my 

mother, 
An'  this  mornin'  he  turned  up  his  toes  with  some  disase 

or  other.'  " 

So  Punch  pictured  a  bonfire  that  crackled 
like  those  the  gardner  made  with  rubbish  in 
the  kitchen  garden.  The  saint  agrees  to  cure 
the  ghander  on  condition  that  should  the  bird 
recover,  he  shall  receive 

"the  bit  o'  land  the  ghander  will  fly  round." 

"  'Faix  I  will  and  very  welcome/  says  the 
King,  'give  what  you  ask/  "  and  departs  forth- 
with to  the  palace  to  fetch  the  "burd." 
157 


Master  and  Maid 

"So  the  Saint  then  tuk  the  ghander  from  the  arrums  of  the 

King, 
And  first  began  to  twig  his  beak  and  then  to  stretch  his 

wing. 
He   cushed  the  bird  into  the  air!    he  flew  thirty  miles 

around, 
Says  the  Saint, '  I'll  thank  yer  Majesty  for  that  little  thaste 

of  ground!'  " 


But  the  king  was  in  no  mind  to  part  with  such 
a  large  slice  of  his  property,  and  he  called  his 
"six  big  sons"  to  heave  St.  Kevin  in  a  ditch. 

"  'Nabocklish/  says  the  saint,  'I'll  soon  finish 
them  young  urchins/  "  and  he  forthwith  trans- 
formed King  OToole  and  his  sons  into  the 
Seven  Churches  of  Glendalough. 

Meanwhile  Dr.  Wentworth  had  finished  his 
letter  to  Pinner's  mother,  and  longed  to  read  it 
to  his  wife,  for  he  felt  that  the  pill  of  truth  was 
gilded  with  charity  in  quite  angelic  fashion, 
and  he  thirsted  for  her  appreciation  and  ap- 
plause. Minutes  passed,  and  still  she  did  not 
come.  The  house  was  very  quiet  and  he  felt 
sure  she  must  have  been  mistaken  about  the 
children,  and  wondered  what  on  earth  she 
could  be  doing;  then  suddenly,  into  the  si- 
lence, there  floated  a  voice  uplifted  in  most 
158 


Master  and  Maid 

cheerful  song:  a  melody  that  set  the  head  nod- 
ding and  the  heels  drumming. 

Not  for  one  instant  did  Dr.  Wentworth  even 
wonder  as  to  the  owner  of  the  voice.  No  one  who 
had  heard  Lallie  sing  once  could  fail  to  recognise 
her  singing  when  he  heard  it  again.  The  siren 
song  drew  him  from  his  letters  and  up  the  stairs 
to  the  half-open  door  of  the  nursery,  and  there 
he  stood  watching  the  pretty  picture  by  the  fire. 

Punch,  majestic  and  satisfied  at  last,  sat  bolt 
upright  on  Lallie's  knee.  Her  arms  were  round 
him;  but  she  leant  back  in  her  chair  that  she 
might  the  better  watch  his  serious  baby  face. 
Mrs.  Wentworth  and  nurse  stood  on  the  other 
side  of  the  hearth,  both  absorbed  in  adoring  con- 
templation of  the  small  figure  in  the  blue  dress- 
ing-gown. Neither  of  them  saw  the  doctor,  but 
Lallie  did,  and  gave  him  a  merry  nod  of  greeting. 

"An*  if  ye  go  there  any  day  at  the  hour  of  one  o'clock, 

You'll  see  the  ghander  flyin'  round  the  Lake  of  Glencla- 
lough." 

The  song  ceased,  and  Punch  turned  himself 
to  look  earnestly  in  Lallie's  face,  demanding: 
"Have  you  seen  him?" 
159 


Master  and  Maid 

"Well,  no,  I  can't  say  I  have,  but  then  I've 
never  been  there  just  at  that  time." 

"Sing  it  again,"  Punch  suggested  sweetly. 

"NO,  NO,  NO,"  Mrs.  Wentworth  cried 
sternly;  "Punch  must  go  to  bed  this  instant." 

"I  said  I  would  if  she  singed  it,  an'  I  will," 
said  Punch.  "Lallie  can  carry  me." 

"NO,  NO,  NO,"  said  another  voice,  and 
Punch's  father  came  into  the  room.  "You're 
far  too  heavy  for  Miss  Lallie,  I'll  take  you; 
but  I'd  like  to  know  what  you  mean  by  being 
awake  at  this  hour,  and  how  you  manage  to  get 
young  ladies  to  sing  for  you?" 

"I  came  over,"  Lallie  replied  hastily;  "I  was 
lonely  and  he  was  awake,  and  worrying  because 
no  one  could  sing  St.  Kevin,  so  I  sang  it,  and  I 
have  enjoyed  myself  so  much,  but  I  must  fly 
back  now.  Good-night,  you  darling  Punch." 

Dr.  Wentworth  escorted  Lallie  back  to  B. 
House,  and  to  this  day  does  not  know  that  she 
was  "feshed."  Neither  did  Miss  Foster,  for 
she  was  upstairs  discussing  the  probability  of 
an  outbreak  of  chicken-pox  with  Matron  when 
Lallie  was  "feshed";  and  finding  the  drawing- 
room  untenanted  on  her  return,  concluded  that 
160 


Master  and  Maid 

Lallie  had  gone  to  bed,  and  went  herself  in 
something  of  a  huff.  It  was  one  thing  for  her 
to  leave  Lallie  for  the  whole  evening,  but  it 
was  quite  another  matter  for  Lallie  to  retire 
without  bidding  her  a  ceremonious  good-night. 
Lallie  crept  in  at  the  side  door — Ford  had  left 
it  unbolted  for  her — and  went  upstairs  by  the 
back  staircase. 

Punch,  warm  and  soft,  with  that  indescrib- 
ably delicious  perfume  of  clean  flannel  and 
violet  powder  that  pervades  cherished  infancy, 
had  filled  her  heart  with  charity  and  loving- 
kindness  towards  all  the  world. 

"I  was  a  pig  about  the  stairs,"  she  said  to 
herself;  "I'll  use  these  for  the  future.  Per- 
haps if  I  try  to  be  less  tiresome  she'll  not  dis- 
like me  so  much.  Oh,  dear,  why  is  it  so  easy 
to  do  what  some  people  want?  Now  if  Mrs. 
Wentworth  asked  me  to  climb  up  a  ladder 
every  time  I  went  to  my  room  I'd  do  it  joy- 
fully, and  poor  Miss  Foster  asks  me  to  use  a 
good  wooden  staircase  when  it's  a  dirty  day 
and  it  seems  utterly  impossible  to  do  it.  I'll 
really  try  and  be  nice  to  her — but  she  won't 
let  me.  Never  mind,  I  can  but  try." 
161 


CHAPTER  XII 

NEXT  morning  Lallie  went  into  the  town 
between  twelve  and  one.  She  had  a  real 
and  legitimate  errand,  inasmuch  as  she  needed 
more  silk  for  the  waistcoat  she  was  working 
for  Tony. 

Since  Mrs.  Wentworth's  remonstrance  she 
had  never  once  walked  down  the  promenade 
alone  between  twelve  and  one,  and  to-day  she 
felt  particularly  virtuous  and  light-hearted. 
She  would  go  straight  to  the  shop,  match  the 
silk,  and  come  home  at  once.  "I'll  walk  up 
and  down  with  nobody,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"not  even  if  the  band's  playing  'Carmen.' ' 

As  it  happened,  the  band  was  playing  selec- 
tions from  "The  Merry  Widow"  when  she 
reached  the  shops,  and  she  was  not  tempted  to 
break  her  good  resolutions,  for  she  met  no 
friends  at  all  until  she  had  bought  her  silks. 
"I'll  go  just  to  the  bottom  of  the  promenade 
162 


Master  and  Maid 

and  walk  up  again,"  she  thought,  "it's  such  a 
cheerful  morning." 

It  was.  The  sun  shone  as  it  sometimes  will 
shine  at  the  beginning  of  the  gloomiest  month. 
The  air  was  soft  and  humid,  and  though  the 
roads  were  shocking  the  wide  pavement  of  Ham- 
chester  promenade  was  clean.  Lallie  looked 
down  anxiously  at  her  shapely  strong  brown 
boots.  No,  they  had  not  suffered;  they  were 
smart  and  trim,  and  did  no  shame  to  the  well- 
hung  short  skirt  above  them.  She  squared  her 
shoulders,  held  her  head  very  high,  and  strolled 
along  serene  in  the  assurance  that  in  all  es- 
sentials she  presented  a  creditable  appearance. 
So  evidently  thought  a  young  man  coming  up 
the  promenade  towards  her. 

He  was  a  man  of  middle  height,  slight  and 
fair,  and  wearing  pince-nez ;  clean-shaven,  with 
full  prominent  blue  eyes,  a  large  head,  pinkish 
complexion,  and  an  amiable,  if  weak,  mouth. 
Admiring  friends  told  him  that  he  greatly  re- 
sembled the  poet  Shelley,  and  he  prided  him- 
self upon  the  likeness  while  in  no  way  dressing 
to  the  part.  He  had  an  extremely  long  neck, 
which  rather  emphasised  the  fact  that  his 
163 


Master  and  Maid 

shoulders  were  narrow  and  sloping.  He  wore 
a  stock  and  was  generally  sporting  in  his  at- 
tire, and  his  face  and  figure  seemed  curiously 
at  variance  with  his  clothes.  In  academic  cap 
and  gown  his  personality  would  have  been  con- 
gruous and  even  dignified,  but  clad  as  he  was 
in  a  well-made  tweed  suit  with  riding-coat,  and 
wearing  upon  his  head  a  straight  brimmed 
bowler,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  there  was  noth- 
ing exaggerated  or  outre  in  his  garments  he  yet 
made  upon  the  beholder  a  curious  impression 
of  artificiality,  and  seeing  him  for  the  first 
time  one's  first  thought  was,  "Why  does  he 
dress  like  that?" 

Immediately  he  caught  sight  of  Lallie  he  hur- 
ried forward  with  outstretched  hand  and  joy 
writ  large  upon  his  countenance. 

"You,  Miss  Clonmell!  What  unspeakably 
good  luck!  I  have  been  hoping  to  meet  you 
for  the  last  three  days,  and  never  caught  a 
glimpse  of  you." 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Ballinger?"  Lallie  said 
demurely,  "and  what  brings  you  to  these  parts? 
Are  you  over  for  the  day,  or  what?" 

"I've  come  here  for  a  bit.  I'm  going  to 
164 


Master  and  Maid 

hunt  here  for  a  month  or  two — all  the  season 
if  I  like  it.  I  suppose  you're  coming  out  to- 
morrow?" 

!•  "Why  aren't  you  hunting  in  your  own  coun- 
try?" Lallie  asked  him  reproachfully.  "What 
has  Fareham  done  that  you  should  desert  it? 
Do  you  suppose  the  hunting  here  is  better?" 

"I  believe  it's  quite  decent  here,  really;  and 
I  know  a  good  many  people,  and  I  thought 
I'd  like  a  bit  of  a  change — and  there  are  other 
reasons.  Of  course  you're  coming  out  with  us 
to-morrow?" 

Lallie  shook  her  head. 

"No,  I'm  not  hunting — yet." 

"Not  hunting,  Miss  Clonmell!  What  on 
earth  is  the  matter?  Have  you  lost  your 
nerve?" 

"No,"  snapped  Lallie,  "but  I've  lost  my 
horse.  Dad's  in  India,  as  you  know;  the 
horses  are  in  Ireland;  and  I'm  staying  with 
friends  who  don't  hunt  and  won't  let  me  hunt 
without  them." 

"Oh,  but  that's  nonsense!    Were  you  going 
this  way — may  I  walk  with  you?    I've  got  a 
little  mare  here  that  would  carry  you  perfectly 
165 


Master  and  Maid 

if  you  would  honour  me  by  riding  her  to- 
morrow. She  has  been  ridden  by  a  lady,  and 
I  believe  she  has  excellent  manners  and  is  a 
good  jumper.  I'm  putting  up  at  the  Harrow, 
the  stables  are  so  good.  They're  just  at  the 
back  here.  Won't  you  come  round  and  look 
at  the  horses  and  see  the  little  mare?  It's  not 
three  minutes'  walk." 

Mr.  Ballinger  talked  fast  and  eagerly,  in 
short,  jerky  sentences,  as  though  he  were  ner- 
vous. 

"I'd  love  to  see  the  horses,"  said  Lallie, 
turning  with  him  into  the  lane  where  the  sta- 
bles were,  quite  forgetful  of  her  good  resolu- 
tions to  "walk  with  nobody." 

"And  if  you  like  the  look  of  the  mare  you'll 
come  out  to-morrow?" 

"Ah,  that's  quite  another  matter.  I  don't 
think  I  can  do  that.  Tony  wouldn't  like  it." 

"Why  wouldn't  Tony,  whoever  he  is,  like  it?" 

"Because  he  can't  come  with  me." 

"And  why  not?" 

"Because  he's  shut  up  in  school." 

"Now  really,  Miss  Clonmell,  that  is  going 
too  far.  I  know  how  you  always  spoil  any 
166 


Master  and  Maid 

boys  you  come  across,  but  that  you  should 
give  up  a  day's  hunting  because  some  wretched 
little  schoolboy  doesn't  like  you  to  go  without 
him  is  absurd.  Even  you  must  see  how  ridic- 
ulous it  is,  and  how  bad  for  him.  Let  him 
attend  to  his  work  and  mind  his  own  business." 

Mr.  Ballinger  spoke  with  considerable  heat, 
and  Lallie  burst  into  delighted  laughter,  ex- 
claiming: 

"But  he's  not  a  little  schoolboy  that  any- 
body could  ignore,  I  assure  you.  Besides,  I'm 
devoted  to  him." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it,  but  he  wants  put- 
ting in  his  place.  Here  are  the  stables." 

Once  among  the  horses,  Lallie  forgot  every- 
thing except  her  delight  in  them;  but  not  even 
the  charms  of  Kitty,  the  mare,  could  make  her 
promise  to  ride  her  the  next  day.  So  per- 
sistent was  Mr.  Ballinger,  however,  that  to  get 
rid  of  him  she  said  she  would  send  him  a  note 
that  night  should  she  happen  to  change  her 
mind.  He  escorted  her  back  to  the  very  gate 
of  B.  House,  and  of  course  she  met  almost 
every  one  she  knew  in  Hamchester  while  hi  his 
company. 

167 


Master  and  Maid 

She  dismissed  him  at  the  gate,  nor  did  she 
ask  him  in  to  lunch  as  she  assuredly  would 
have  done  had  it  been  her  father's  house.  She 
stood  for  a  minute  watching  his  somewhat  slow 
and  disappointed  departure,  gazing  earnestly  at 
his  retreating  back.  Then  she  shook  her  head 
decidedly  and  went  into  the  house. 

Up  the  back  stairs  did  she  go  in  her  honest 
desire  to  conciliate  Miss  Foster.  One  window 
on  that  staircase  looks  out  on  to  the  play- 
ground, and  as  she  passed  she  caught  sight  of 
Cripps  standing  with  two  other  prefects.  The 
window  was  open  and  she  looked  out.  All 
three  boys  looked  up  and  capped  her. 

"The  dears!"  said  Lallie  to  herself,  and 
kissed  her  hand  to  them  gaily  as  she  passed. 

At  that  very  moment  Miss  Foster,  followed 
by  Mr.  Johns,  came  through  the  swing-door  at 
the  top  of  the  stairs.  Miss  Foster  stopped  short 
some  four  steps  above  Lallie,  and  of  course  Mr. 
Johns  had  to  stop  too,  for  he  couldn't  push  past 
her,  and  to  turn  back  would  have  looked  odd. 

"Miss  Clonmell,"  said  Miss  Foster,  in  tones 
that  could  be  heard  to  the  farthest  corner  of 
the  playground,  "I  really  must  protest  against 
168 


Master  and  Maid 

your  corrupting  the  boys  of  this  house  by  vul- 
gar flirtation  of  that  kind." 

Lallie  stood  still  in  her  turn,  absolutely  petri- 
fied by  indignant  astonishment. 

Cripps  crimsoned  to  the  roots  of  his  hair, 
caught  each  of  his  friends  by  the  arm  and  hur- 
ried them  indoors. 

"How  dare  you  speak  to  me  like  that?" 
Lallie  gasped  out;  "and  before  the  boys  too? 
How  dare  you  insult  me  so?" 

"I  shall  continue  to  do  what  I  consider  my 
duty  whether  it  be  agreeable  to  you  or  not, 
Miss  Clonmell,  and  I  tell  you  again  that  I  will 
not  have  these  vulgar  flirtations." 

"It  is  you  who  put  a  vulgar  interpretation 
on  the  simplest  actions,"  Lallie  exclaimed  furi- 
ously, and  with  that  she  turned  and  ran  down 
the  stairs  again  and  across  the  hall  and  out  at 
the  front  door  before  Miss  Foster  fully  realised 
that  she  was  gone. 

At  Miss  Foster's  first  words  poor  Mr.  Johns 
had  turned  and  fled  upstairs  again,  through  the 
swing  door,  and  out  to  the  landing  from  which 
he  could  look  down  into  the  hall,  and  he  saw 
Lallie's  swift  and  furious  exit.  Down  the  sa- 
169 


Master  and  Maid 

cred  front  stairs  he  dashed  and  out  into  the 
drive  after  her,  catching  her  just  as  she  turned 
into  the  road. 

As  he  joined  her  she  lifted  to  him  her  white 
miserable  face  with  tragic  eyes  all  dark  with 
grief  and  anger. 

"I  must  walk  and  walk,"  she  said  breath- 
lessly. "I  am  so  angry;  if  I  had  stayed  an- 
other minute  I  should  have  done  that  woman 
an  injury.  You  heard  what  she  said?" 

"I  quite  understand,"  Mr.  Johns  said  sooth- 
ingly. "I  hope  you'll  allow  me  to  come  with 
you.  I  won't  talk." 

"It's  very  nice  of  you,  but  really  I'd  be  bet- 
ter alone." 

"I  think  not,"  Mr.  Johns  said  gently;  "I 
hope  you  won't  forbid  me  to  come." 

He  looked  so  big,  and  kind,  and  honest,  and 
withal  so  hopelessly  uncomfortable,  that  Lai- 
lie's  face  softened  and  laughter  crept  back  into 
her  eyes. 

"It's  really  very  nice  of  you  to  want  to  come 
when  I'm  in  such  a  bad  temper.    Let's  go  this 
way,  where  there's  no  people,  and  perhaps  pres- 
ently I'll  feel  better  and  we'll  talk." 
170 


Master  and  Maid 

For  nearly  ten  minutes  Lallie  pounded  along 
in  dead  silence  as  fast  as  she  could  go.  Then 
she  began  to  notice  that  the  pace  which  was 
rapidly  reducing  her  to  a  state  of  breathless 
collapse  had  no  sort  of  effect  upon  her  com- 
panion, who,  hands  in  his  pockets,  appeared  to 
be  strolling  along  in  an  easy  sort  of  saunter  at 
her  side. 

"This  is  ignominious,"  she  exclaimed;  "here 
am  I  walking  as  if  for  a  wager,  and  you  don't 
seem  hurrying  one  bit." 

"Am  I  walking  too  fast  for  you?"  Mr.  Johns 
asked,  in  poignant  self  reproach.  "I  am  so 
sorry;  you  see,  I  don't  often  walk  with  ladies." 

"It  isn't  you  at  all,  it's  me;  I'm  walking  too 
fast  for  myself,  and  it's  so  aggravating  to  see 
somebody  alongside  perfectly  cool  and  com- 
posed. If  I  could  leave  you  behind,  or  you 
had  to  trot  to  keep  up  with  me,  it  wouldn't  be 
half  so  trying.  As  it  is  I  give  in.  For  mercy's 
sake  let's  sit  on  this  seat  for  a  minute.  You 
may  talk  to  me  now.  I  no  longer  feel  like  tear- 
ing the  hair  off  Miss  Foster.  Tell  me  now, 
what  was  it  I  did  to  draw  such  an  avalanche 
of  abuse  upon  me?" 

171 


Master  and  Maid 

Side  by  side  they  sat  down  upon  one  of  the 
hard  green  seats  that  are  placed  at  convenient 
intervals  in  every  road  leading  out  of  Ham- 
chester. 

Lallie's  cheeks  were  quite  rosy  after  her  rapid 
walk.  Her  grey  eyes  were  clear  and  limpid 
again,  candid  and  inquiring  as  a  child's.  Mr. 
Johns  gazing  into  them  felt  compelled  to  speak 
the  truth. 

"I  think,"  he  said  slowly,  "it  was  because 
you  kissed  your  hand  to  Cripps." 

"It  wasn't  only  to  Mr.  Cripps,  it  was  to  Mr. 
Berry  and  Mr.  Hamilton  as  well." 

"Perhaps  she  thought  you  did  it  to  attract 
their  attention." 

"And  what  if  I  did?  Would  she  expect  me 
to  pass  three  nice  boys  living  in  the  same  house 
with  me — though  it's  little  enough  I  see  of 
them — with  my  nose  in  the  air  and  never  a 
word  of  greeting;  and  if  I  hadn't  gone  up  by 
her  nasty  old  back  stairs  just  to  please  her,  this 
would  never  have  happened." 

"After  all,"  said  Mr.  Johns,  still  gazing  at 
Lallie,  although  she  no  longer  looked  at  him, 
"  does  it  matter  much  what  Miss  Foster  thinks?  " 
172 


Master  and  Maid 

"It  doesn't  matter  to  me  what  she  thinks, 
but  what  she  says  does  matter.  I  can't  let 
her  insult  me  in  public  and  take  no  notice." 

"She  often,"  Mr.  Johns  remarked  ruefully, 
"insults  me  in  public,  and  I  take  no  notice." 

"Well,  it's  very  noble  of  you,  but  I  can't 
reach  those  heights.  To  be  told  I'm  a  vulgar 
flirt  and  corrupt — corrupt,  mind  you — the  boys, 
is  more  than  I'll  endure  from  any  stout  old 
woman  on  this  earth.  Do  you  think  I'd  cor- 
rupt any  boys,  Mr.  Johns?" 

"I'm  quite  sure  you  would  always  use  your 
great  influence  in  the  highest  possible  way," 
Mr.  Johns  said  solemnly,  "but " 

"But  what?"  Lallie  demanded  impatiently 
as  he  hesitated. 

"You  might  mislead  a  boy  by — ah — for  in- 
stance, kissing  your  hand  to  him." 

"How  mislead?" 

"It's  very  difficult  to  put  it  in  such  a  fashion 
as  not  to  sound  exaggerated  and  absurd;  but 
you  might,  you  know,  make  a  boy  think  you 
were  fond  of  him." 

"So  I  am  very  fond  of  them;  they're  dears, 
and  I'm  perfectly  ready  to  leave  my  character 
173 


Master  and  Maid 

in  their  hands.  They  wouldn't  misjudge  me 
and  think  horrid  things." 

"I  don't  think  they  would  misjudge  you, 
Miss  Clonmell,  but  they  might  mistake  your 
intention." 

"My  intention  was  perfectly  plain — to  give 
them  a  friendly  greeting  as  I  passed.  I've 
always  kissed  my  hand  to  people  ever -since  I 
was  a  wee  little  girl — Madame  taught  me  to  do 
it — and  if  that's  corrupting  them,  the  sooner  I 
leave  B.  House  the  better.  I  can't  turn  into 
Diogenes  in  his  tub  at  a  moment's  notice.  If 
I  mayn't  smile  and  wave  to  the  people  I  know, 
I'd  best  go  where  there's  a  more  friendly  spirit. 
And  so  I'll  tell  Tony,  only  it  will  bother  the 
poor  dear  so.  Do  you  think  Miss  Foster  will 
go  and  harangue  Tony,  Mr.  Johns?" 

"I  fear  it  is  only  too  likely." 

"Well,  she'll  get  a  pretty  dressing  down  when 
she  does,"  and  Lallie  gave  a  sigh  of  deepest 
satisfaction.  "Tony  understands  me,  however 
dense  other  people  may  be." 

"Don't  misunderstand  me,  Miss  Clonmell,  I 
beg;  I  only  tried  to  lay  before  you  a  possible 
point  of  view — it  may  be  a  wholly  erroneous 
174 


Master  and  Maid 

one.  But  you  know  people  of  great  charm  have 
also  great  responsibilities,  and  it  seems  to  me 
that  sometimes — sometimes  you  are  apt  to 
forget  how  your  graciousness  may  raise  false 
hopes." 

"Hopes  of  what?  In  the  name  of  common 
sense  what  is  the  man  talking  about?"  Lallie 
cried  despairingly.  "Do  you  mean  that  if  I 
kiss  my  hand  to  a  boy  he  will  promptly  hope 
I'll  kiss  him  in  a  day  or  two?" 

"That's  precisely  what  I  do  mean,  only  I 
shouldn't  have  dared  to  say  so,"  Mr.  Johns  re- 
plied emphatically. 

"Oh,  the  boys  have  got  far  more  sense  than 
you  give  them  credit  for.  Good  gracious, 
what's  that  bell?" 

Mr.  Johns  hastily  dragged  his  watch  from 
his  pocket. 

"Do  you  know  it's  a  quarter  past  two  and 
I'm  due  to  play  for  the  town  on  their  ground 
at  three." 

"And  luncheon  will  all  be  gone,  and  I'm  so 

hungry,"  Lallie  wailed.     "You  see  it  was  nearly 

half-past  one  when  I  came  in,  and  then  Miss 

Foster  was  so  disagreeable  and  drove  us  both 

175 


Master  and  Maid 

out  of  the  house,  and  we  walked  and  walked; 
and  now  what'll  we  do?" 

"I,  at  any  rate,  must  fly  and  change.  If  I 
take  a  pony  trap  down  to  the  ground  I'll  just 
do  it." 

"And  you've  had  no  lunch!  Oh,  I  am  so 
distressed!" 

"That  doesn't  matter  in  the  least,  I'll  snatch 
a  biscuit  and  a  bit  of  chocolate.  When  I'm  in 
training  I  often  do  without  lunch." 

"Run  then,  Mr.  Johns;  never  mind  me.  If 
you  spruit  a  bit  you'll  be  at  B.  House  in  five 
minutes." 

"Will  you  not  think  me  very  rude?" 

"Don't  waste  time  talking — run!" 

Mr.  Johns  ran,  and  Lallie  followed  very 
slowly,  wrapped  in  thought. 


176 


CHAPTER  XIII 

TONY  had  been  playing  fives  and  only  man- 
aged to  change  just  in  time  for  the  boys' 
dinner.  Lallie's  seat,  at  his  right  hand,  was 
vacant,  and  he  concluded  that  she  was  lunch- 
ing with  the  Wentworths.  Miss  Foster  sat  at 
another  table,  and  he  had  no  opportunity  till 
the  meal  was  over  of  asking  her  what  had  be- 
come of  his  guest. 

Mr.  Johns'  absence,  without  warning  or  ex- 
planation, certainly  did  surprise  him,  for  Mr. 
Johns  was  the  least  casual  of  men  and  prided 
himself  upon  never  being  late  for,  or  absent 
from,  any  duty  whatsoever.  It  never  oc- 
curred to  Tony  to  connect  his  absence  with 
Lallie's. 

Tony  had  promised  to  take  Lallie  to  the 
match  in  the  afternoon,  but  had  that  morning 
been  unexpectedly  summoned  to  Oxford  on 
rather  important  business,  and  the  half-holiday 
made  it  possible  for  him  to  go. 
177 


Master  and  Maid 

He  noticed  that  Miss  Foster,  contrary  to  her 
usual  custom,  went  straight  to  the  drawing- 
room  directly  after  lunch,  and  he  followed  her 
there  with  his  question  as  to  the  whereabouts 
of  his  guest. 

Miss  Foster  stood  on  the  hearthrug  in  front 
of  the  fire — luncheon  was  always  earlier  on  half- 
holidays,  and  it  was  not  yet  two-thirty.  She 
looked  more  than  usually  formidable,  and  Tony 
trembled  before  her.  As  he  asked  his  question 
she  waved  him  to  a  chair  with  a  majestic  mo- 
tion of  the  hand. 

"Please  sit  down,  Mr.  Bevan,"  she  remarked, 
in  a  hard  voice.  "I  want  to  speak  to  you  on 
this  very  subject.  I  have  no  idea  where  Miss 
Clonmell  is.  She  flounced  out  of  the  house  in 
a  passion  because  I  had  to  speak  to  her  about 
flirting  with  the  boys;  and  I  believe,  but  I  am 
not  certain  on  this  point — I  believe  that  Mr. 
Johns  accompanied  her,  which  explains  his 
absence." 

Tony  did  not  sit  down.    On  the  contrary  he 

remained  for  a  full  minute  exactly  where  he 

was,  just  inside  the  half-open  door,  and  stared 

amazedly  at  Miss  Foster.    In  perfect  silence  he 

178 


Master  and  Maid 

shut  the  door  and  crossed  the  room  till,  stand- 
ing beside  her  on  the  hearthrug,  he  said  slowly: 

"I  don't  think  I  quite  understand;  did  you 
say  that  in  consequence  of  something  you  had 
said  to  her  Miss  Clonmell  left  the  house?" 

"Not  for  good,  Mr.  Bevan;  don't  look  so 
anxious.  She  was  in  a  temper  because  I  found 
fault  with  conduct  that  I  know  you,  also,  would 
be  the  first  to  reprobate." 

Miss  Foster  spoke  rather  nervously.  Tony's 
face  was  quite  expressionless,  but  there  was  an 
indefinable  something  hi  his  excessively  quiet 
manner  that  caused  her  for  the  first  tune  to 
question  whether  she  had  been  quite  wise. 

"I'm  afraid  I  must  ask  you  to  explain  ex- 
actly what  has  happened,  Miss  Foster.  I  can't 
imagine  any  conduct  on  the  part  of  Miss  Clon- 
mell that  could  call  for  an  expression  of  opinion 
so  adverse  as  to  drive  "her  from  my  house,  even 
temporarily.  And  I  cannot  conceive  it  possi- 
ble that  you  should  so  address  her  if  she  was, 
as  you  say,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Johns." 

"Mr.  Johns  was  not  with  her.  He  hap- 
pened to  be  following  me  as  I  came  down  the 
stairs.  I  did  not  see  him  when  I  spoke.  What 
179 


Master  and  Maid 

happened  was  this:  I  found  Miss  Clonmell 
standing  at  the  window  of  the  staircase  try- 
ing to  attract  the  attention  of  three  of  the 
bigger  boys  by  kissing  her  hand  to  them — a 
most " 

"My  dear  Miss  Foster,"  Tony  interrupted 
irritably,  "how  very  absurd.  You  must  have 
misunderstood  the  whole  occurrence.  I've 
known  Miss  Clonmell  since  she  was  a  baby,  and 
she  is  the  very  last  girl  in  the  world  to  try  to 
'  attract '  any  one 's  attention .  She  doesn  't  need 
to.  As  to  kissing  her  hand,  it's  a  foreign  ges- 
ture she  has  acquired  from  much  living  abroad. 
I  don't  suppose  the  most  conceited  ass  of  a  boy 
in  the  whole  College  would  misunderstand  her 
if  he  saw  her." 

Tony's  face  was  no  longer  expressionless,  and 
Miss  Foster  again  experienced  that  strange  lit- 
tle tremor  of  fear. 

"I  can  assure  you,  Mr.  Be  van,  had  you  seen 
what  I  saw,  you  would  not  treat  the  affair  so 
lightly.  I  beg  you  will  not  think  I  was  ani- 
mated by  any  personal  feeling  in  what  I  did." 

"Why  should  you  be?"  Tony  asked  simply, 
looking  very  hard  at  Miss  Foster  the  while. 
180 


Master  and  Maid 

"In  speaking  as  I  did  to  Miss  Clonmell  I  was 
animated  wholly  by  a  desire  to  do  my  duty  by 
B.  House.  The  honour  of  the  house  is  very 
dear  to  me." 

Miss  Foster's  voice  broke,  and  Tony  was 
melted  at  once. 

"I  am  sure  it  is,"  he  said  cordially;  "but 
you  must  take  my  word  for  it  that  in  this  in- 
stance you  have  been  mistaken.  And  now, 
where  do  you  suppose  that  poor  child  is?" 

"I  should  say  she  is  almost  certainly  with 
Mrs.  Wentworth,  pouring  her  fancied  woes  into 
a  sympathetic  ear." 

Again  Tony  bent  his  searching  gaze  upon 
Miss  Foster. 

"Ah,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  "that  last  re- 
mark of  yours  proves  conclusively  how  little 
you  know  Lallie.  She  would  no  more  go  and 
complain  of  you  to  any  one  outside,  than  she 
would  repeat  a  confidence  or  carry  a  mischief- 
making  tale." 

Miss  Foster  made  no  reply. 

"Well,  I  must  go,  but  I  hope  I  have  made 
it  quite  clear  to  you  that  you  were  mistaken; 
and  please  remember  in  future,  should  any  little 
181 


Master  and  Maid 

difficulty  occur,  you  must  come  to  me  and  not 
deal  directly  with  Miss  Clomnell.  I  came  to  ask 
you  to  go  with  her  in  my  place  to  the  match  this 
afternoon,  but  in  view  of  what  has  happened  and 
the  fact  that  Miss  Clonmell  has  not  returned,  I 
suppose  that  is  impossible.  I  shall  have  to  stay 
the  night  at  Oxford,  but  hope  to  be  back  in  time 
for  morning  school  to-morrow.  May  I  beg  you 
to  adopt  as  conciliatory  a  manner  as  possible  to 
Miss  Clonmell — even  if  you  cannot  bring  your- 
self to  apologise  to  her?  She  is  my  guest,  you 
see,  and  it  would  be  very  distressing  to  me  to 
think  she  is  unhappy  in  my  house.  Can  I  de- 
pend upon  you  in  this,  Miss  Foster?"  Tony's 
voice  was  so  pleading  and  he  looked  so  un- 
happy that  Miss  Foster  relented. 

"I  certainly  could  not  apologise  as  I  feel  I 
was  justified  in  what  I  did.  I  shall  make  no 
reference  whatever  to  what  has  passed.  I 
think  that  will  be  best;  don't  you?" 

"Much  best,"  said  Tony  warmly.  "Please 
tell  her  how  sorry  I  am  not  to  have  seen  her 
before  I  left." 

As  the  door  was  shut  behind  him  Miss  Foster 
exclaimed : 

182 


Master  and  Maid 

"Oh,  you  poor,  dear,  duped,  deluded,  man!" 

Meanwhile  Lallie  still  strolled  slowly  up  and 
down  the  bit  of  road  where  she  had  rested  with 
Mr.  Johns.  A  soft  rain  began  to  fall  and  she 
had  no  umbrella,  but  she  was  unconscious  of 
the  fact.  Physically  she  was  tired  and  chilled, 
and  really  faint  from  hunger.  Mentally,  now 
that  her  anger  and  indignation  had  cooled,  she 
was  depressed,  but  inclined  to  think  she  had 
exaggerated  the  importance  of  the  whole  affair. 

"A  storm  in  a  teacup,"  thought  Lallie,  "and 
I've  gone  and  complicated  the  whole  thing  by 
vanishing  in  the  society  of  Paunch.  Awfully 
decent  of  him  to  come  with  me,  but  Tony  will 
wonder.  He'll  set  Germs  in  her  place,  but  he'll 
ask  me  what  it  was  all  about,  and  if  he  dis- 
covers that  Germs  and  I  are  not  the  dear 
friends  he  pictures  us,  he'll  worry,  and  to  be  a 
worrying  guest  is  what  I  can't  bear.  I  wonder 
what  I'd  better  do?" 

For  a  whole  hour  Lallie  walked  up  and  down 
that  little  bit  of  road  in  the  rain,  resting  at 
intervals  upon  the  exceedingly  wet  green  seat, 
till  at  last  the  grey  twilight  of  the  short  No- 
vember afternoon  began  to  close  about  her.  A 
183 


Master  and  Maid 

passing  man  looked  so  hard  at  her  that  she 
grew  nervous  and  set  off  at  a  great  pace  for 
B.  House. 

Tony  was  worried  and  distressed.  His  in- 
terview with  Miss  Foster  had  revealed  to  him 
a  state  of  matters  he  had,  it  is  true,  once  or 
twice  dimly  conjectured:  always  putting  his 
misgivings  from  him  as  unfair  and  ungenerous 
to  Miss  Foster.  He  kept  his  hansom  waiting 
till  the  last  minute  in  the  hope  that  Lallie  would 
return  before  he  had  to  go. 

With  the  excuse  of  getting  her  to  keep  Val 
till  he  was  safely  out  of  the  house,  he  sought 
the  matron  and  begged  her  to  see  that  tea  was 
taken  up  to  Miss  ClonmelPs  room  directly  she 
came  in,  and  that  her  fire  should  be  lit  at  once. 
He  hung  about  looking  so  miserable  and  unde- 
cided, that  Matron,  who  had  heard  the  whole 
story  of  the  why  and  wherefore  of  Lallie 's  ab- 
sence from  Ford — how  do  servants  always  know 
everything  that  goes  on? — was  emboldened  to 
remark  consolingly: 

"It  will  be  all  right,  sir;  these  little  storms 
soon  blow  over.  We  all  know  Miss  Foster  is 
just  a  little  bit  difficult  at  times;  but  she  means 
184 


Master  and  Maid 

the  best  possible,  and  it  soon  passes.  I'll  look 
after  Miss  Clonmell  myself;  you  may  depend 
upon  me.  She's  a  sweet  young  lady  and  we're 
all  devoted  to  her." 

This  was  exactly  what  Tony  wanted,  and  he 
departed  somewhat  comforted. 

As  he  was  getting  into  his  cab  Matron 
watched  him  from  the  window,  and  poor  Val, 
whining  dismally,  paws  on  the  window-sill, 
watched  him  too.  As  the  cab  vanished  out  of 
the  drive  Matron  leant  down  and  patted  Val, 
remarking: 

"  After  all,  what's  thirty-seven?  A  man's  at 
his  best  then,  and  none  the  worse  because  he 
has  always  been  so  busy  that  he  doesn't  even 
know  what's  the  matter  with  him  when  he's 
got  it — rash  out  all  over  him — got  it  badly." 

Thus  it  was  that  when  Lallie  returned  to 
B.  House,  front  door,  front  hall,  front  stairs, 
though  her  boots  were  dreadful,  she  found  a 
lovely  fire  in  her  bedroom  and  Matron  there 
arranging  a  little  tea-table  beside  the  arm- 
chair on  the  hearth.  Moreover  Matron  in- 
sisted on  her  changing  everything  there  and 
185 


Master  and  Maid 

then,  and  helped  her  to  do  it,  finally  dosing 
her  with  ammoniated  quinine  before  she  would 
give  her  any  tea.  She  asked  no  questions 
of  Lallie,  but  while  the  girl  devoured  crisp 
toast  and  a  boiled  egg,  entertained  her  with 
various  items  of  College  news,  among  them 
that  there  was  a  case  of  scarlet  fever  hi  one 
of  the  houses. 

"Isn't  Miss  Foster  in  a  dreadful  state?" 
asked  Lallie. 

"Well,  she's  worried  and  anxious,  but  so  are 
we  all.  It's  not  the  right  term  for  it  either, 
and  the  boy  can't  have  brought  it  back  with 
hun — it's  too  late  in  the  term — so  the  question 
is  where  did  he  get  it?  One  always  dreads  an 
epidemic  of  any  kind  in  a  large  school.  We 
haven't  had  a  real  bad  one  for  four  years,  and 
then  it  was  in  the  summer  term,  which  was 
better.  It's  always  so  much  easier  to  get  peo- 
ple well  in  summer." 

"I  got  it  that  tune  too.  Of  course  Paddy 
came  back  with  it.  Three  holidays  in  succes- 
sion he  came  back  with  something,  and  gave  it 
to  me  every  time;  and  he  was  so  sick  to  have  it 
in  the  holidays  instead  of  missing  school.  But 
186 


Master  and  Maid 

I  should  think  this  house  is  pretty  safe.  I 
never  smelt  so  many  disinfectants  in  my  life 
till  I  came  here — Come  in!" 

Miss  Foster  followed  her  knock,  and  she 
heard  Lallie's  last  words. 

The  fire,  lit  three  hours  before  its  proper 
time;  the  tea-table;  the  presence  of  Matron; 
above  all  the  certainty  from  the  few  words  she 
had  overheard  that  she,  herself,  was  the  sub- 
ject of  their  discourse,  all  combined  to  rob  her 
manner  of  any  geniality  she  might  have  in- 
tended to  impart  to  it.  So  annoyed  was  she 
that  Matron  should  have  taken  upon  herself  to 
give  Lallie  tea  without  her — Miss  Foster's  or- 
ders, and  that  Lallie,  as  she  concluded,  had 
actually  lit  her  own  fire  in  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  without  by  your  leave  of  any  sort, 
that  she  found  nothing  to  say  but: 

"You're  back  I  see,  and  have  had  tea — are 
you  unwell?" 

"  Thank  you,  no,"  Lallie  answered  with  quite 
equal  frigidity,  "but  I  was  tired  and  hungry 
and  very  wet,  and  Matron  was  kind  enough  to 
bring  me  some  tea." 

"Mr.  Be  van  asked  me  to  tell  you  that  he  has 
187 


Master  and  Maid 

been  unexpectedly  called  to  Oxford  and  will 
not  be  back  to-night." 

"Won't  you  sit  down,  Miss  Foster?  Must 
you  go,  Matron?  Thank  you  so  much.  Ma- 
tron told  me  Tony  had  to  go;  it  was  he  who 
asked  her  to  see  that  I  had  tea.  I  hope  it  has 
not  been  troublesome?"  Lallie  added  politely, 
rising  from  her  chair. 

Miss  Foster  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
large,  remote,  unapproachable;  manifestly  dis- 
approving. 

"I  shall  esteem  it  a  favour,  Miss  Clonmell, 
if,  in  future,  you  will  let  me  know  before- 
hand when  you  intend  to  be  absent  from  a 
meal." 

"Certainly,  Miss  Foster;  then  I  may  as  well 
tell  you  now  that  I  shall  not  be  home  for  lunch- 
eon to-morrow.  I'm  so  glad  you  reminded  me. 
Won't  you  sit  down?" 

Lallie  herself  sat  down  again  in  the  big  deep 
chair;  so  large  was  it  that  she  almost  seemed 
to  lie  down  in  it  as  she  leaned  back  and  stared 
fixedly  at  the  fire.  She  looked  so  comfortable, 
so  entirely  at  her  ease,  that  Miss  Foster  simply 
longed  to  give  this  impudent  girl  a  piece  of  her 
188 


Master  and  Maid 

mind,  but  the  events  of  the  early  afternoon  had 
somewhat  shaken  her  serene  faith  in  the  in- 
nate wisdom  of  her  instincts.  For  years  she 
had  religiously  tended  the  flame  of  her  self- 
confidence  till  it  burned  with  a  steady  radiance 
upon  the  altar  of  her  beliefs.  To-day,  how- 
ever, the  flame  had  been  blown  upon  by  an 
adverse  wind  of  criticism;  it  flickered  until  its 
light  resembled  a  will-o'-the-wisp  rather  than 
the  clear  light  of  reason  she  had  always  sup- 
posed it  to  be.  Even  the  sight  of  the  denuded 
eggshell  upon  Lallie's  empty  plate,  annoying 
anachronism  at  that  hour  though  it  was,  could 
not  stir  Miss  Foster  to  engage  in  open  con- 
flict. 

The  graceful  little  figure  in  the  loose  white 
dressing-gown,  lolling  in  the  chair,  plainly 
awaited  the  first  onslaught.  Lazy  and  luxu- 
rious, Lallie  looked  sideways  at  Miss  Foster 
under  her  long  lashes  and  said  sweetly: 

"Do  sit  down:  you  look  so  uncomfortable 
standing  there." 

"No,  thank  you";  and  in  spite  of  herself 
Miss  Foster  replied  quite  civilly.  "I  only  came 
to  deliver  Mr.  Bevan's  message.  Do  you  think 
189 


Master  and  Maid 

you  will  be  well  enough  to  come  down  to  din- 
ner?" 

"I  assure  you  I  am  not  in  the  least  ill.  I 
will  come  down  most  punctually.  But,  if  you 
will  excuse  me,  I  will  not  change  till  it's  time 
to  dress.  I  have  letters  to  write  and  will  do 
them  here  by  this  nice  fire.  Thank  you  so 
much  for  coming  to  inquire  for  me." 

Miss  Foster  nearly  answered:  "I  did  nothing 
of  the  kind,"  but  again  mistrust  of  the  "will- 
o'-the-wisp"  prevented  her,  and  she  sailed  out 
of  the  room  without  another  word. 

Lallie  thrust  out  her  little  feet  to  the  warmth 
and  laughed. 

"Dinner  alone  with  Paunch  and  Germs  will 
be  rather  a  silent  meal,"  she  reflected,  "un- 
less we  discuss  the  probabilities  of  scarlet  fever, 
which  we  are  sure  to  do.  I'll  finish  Tony's 
waistcoat  this  evening,  for  to-morrow  I  shall  be 
out  all  day.  Tony  will  be  so  annoyed  with  me 
to-morrow  that  he'll  forget  all  about  the  stupid 
little  stramash  to-day.  I  hate  to  vex  him, 
but  I  know  if  he  guessed  half  I  have  to  bear 
from  Germs  it  would  vex  him  far  more;  and 
if  he  got  questioning  me  I  might  let  out  some- 
190 


Master  and  Maid 

thing,  and  for  all  his  quiet  ways  Tony  is  very 
observant.  Germs  was  very  civil  this  evening. 
I  wonder  why?  I  suppose  poor  old  Tony  gave 
her  a  dressing  down,  but  it  would  hurt  him 
frightfully  to  do  it.  She  really  is  so  splendid 
in  the  house,  and  he  does  love  to  live  at  peace 
with  all  his  fellow  creatures.  He'd  never  en- 
joy a  row  as  I  do;  but  then,  he's  as  English  as 
ever  he  can  be.  It's  quite  suitable  that  he 
should  find  fault  with  a  harum-scarum  like  me, 
that  won't  hurt  him;  but  it's  upsetting  in  the 
extreme  to  run  against  such  a  solid  body  as 
old  Germs,  all  knobs  and  hard  things  that  hurt 
when  you  charge  into  her.  ...  I  hope  Mr. 
Ballinger  won't  look  upon  it  as  encouragement 
if  I  ride  Kitty  to-morrow.  After  all,  why 
shouldn't  I?  We  lent  him  a  horse  several 
times  when  he  was  over  in  Kerry  last  spring, 
and  it's  much  safer  to  lend  me  a  horse  than 
him.  I  wish  he  was  big  and  benevolent  like 
Tony.  You  always  feel  you  could  lean  against 
Tony  and  he'd  stand  steady  as  a  rock.  If 
you  leant  heavily  against  Mr.  Ballinger  he 
might  collapse.  Tony  really  is  a  very  great 
dear,  he's  so  big  all  round — I  hate  to  vex 
191 


Master  and  Maid 

him — but  perhaps  it'll  clear  the  atmosphere 
a  bit.  I  wish  Mr.  Ballinger  looked  less  like 
a  passenger  when  he's  outside  a  horse.  ...  I 

wonder " 

Lallie  had  ceased  to  wish  or  wonder,  for  she 
was  fast  asleep. 


192 


CHAPTER  XIV 

E.LLIE  came  down  to  breakfast  in  her 
habit.  Miss  Foster  did  not  ask  where  she 
was  going  or  why  she  was  riding  so  early,  but 
contented  herself  with  a  remark  to  the  effect 
that  the  very  short  and  skimpy  habits  now  in 
vogue  were  singularly  ungraceful  and  unbe- 
coming. Lallie  replied  that  the  shortness  of 
the  habit  mattered  very  little  if  only  the  boots 
below  it  were  irreproachable,  and  that  after  all 
a  habit  was  not  for  walking  in  and  that  it  was 
better  to  look  a  bit  bunchy  on  foot  than  to  be 
dragged  if  you  happened  to  be  thrown.  Where- 
upon Miss  Foster  made  a  complicated  sort  of 
sound,  something  between  a  snort  and  a  sniff, 
and  the  meal  proceeded  hi  silence. 

Only  by  going  straight  into  College  from  the 
station  could  Tony  take  his  class  at  the  proper 
time,  but  immediately  morning  school  was  over 
he  rushed  down  to  B.  House,  hoping  to  find 
Lallie  and  take  her  up  to  watch  the  pick-up. 
193 


Master  and  Maid 

His  letters  were  spread  out  on  the  hall  table, 
and  one,  conspicuous  from  the  fact  that  it  was 
unstamped,  caught  his  eye  at  once.  He  recog- 
nised the  little  upright  writing  so  like  Fitzroy 
Clonmell's. 

As  he  read,  Tony's  honest  face  flushed,  then 
paled  to  a  look  of  pain  and  perplexity. 

"Tony,  dear,"  it  ran,  "I've  disobeyed  you 
and  gone  to  the  opening  meet  after  all.  I've 
not  gone  alone,  and  I  assure  you  all  will  be  well. 
Yesterday,  in  the  town,  I  met  a  hunting  friend 
of  whom  we  saw  a  good  deal  last  season,  and 
he  tempted  me  with  a  charming  little  mare 
whose  clear  destiny  it  was  to  carry  me  once; 
anyway — I  fell — I  gave  in.  His  name  is  Bal- 
linger — he  is  quite  a  nice  man;  but  he  doesn't 
ride  a  bit  better  than  you,  Tony,  dear,  so  ex- 
cept as  an  escort  I  don't  fancy  I  shall  see  much 
of  him. 

"This  morning  I  had  a  letter  from  the  Ches- 
ters  up  at  Fareham,  and  they  have  asked  me 
to  go  from  to-morrow  till  Tuesday.  They  want 
me  to  sing  at  a  Primrose  meeting  on  Saturday; 
that  I  know  you  won't  mind:  it  will  get  rid  of 
me  for  a  few  days,  and  give  you  all  a  rest.  Try 
not  to  be  cross  with  me.  I'm  a  tiresome  wretch, 
I  know,  but  I  am  also  your  loving  Lallie." 
194 


Master  and  Maid 

Very  deliberately  Tony  folded  the  letter,  put 
it  back  in  the  envelope,  and  into  his  breast- 
pocket. He  gathered  up  the  rest  of  his  letters 
and  went  to  his  study,  but  he  made  no  attempt 
to  read  them.  He  forgot  that  he  ought  to  go  and 
watch  the  pick-up.  He  sat  down  by  his  desk, 
staring  straight  in  front  of  him  at  nothing. 

Evidently,  he  reflected,  Lallie  was  unhappy 
in  B.  House;  glad  to  get  away.  She  was 
afraid  he  might  say  something  to  her  about  yes- 
terday, and  regardless  of  his  expressed  wish, 
nay  his  command,  so  far  as  he  could  be  said  to 
exercise  any  authority  over  her,  she  had  dis- 
obeyed him.  It  had  never  so  much  as  entered 
the  realm  of  possibilities  that  she  could  defy 
him,  and  he  was  hurt.  Never  until  that  mo- 
ment did  he  realise  how  much  he  counted  upon 
her  steady  affection.  He  had  always  been  so 
sure  that  he  and  Lallie  thoroughly  understood 
each  other.  From  the  time,  when  a  little  baby 
in  her  nurse's  arms,  she  would  hold  out  her 
own,  struggling  to  be  "taken"  by  the  tall, 
shy  undergraduate;  throughout  the  somewhat 
stormy  years  of  her  childhood,  when  he  was 
ever  her  confidant  and  her  ally;  during  the 
195 


Master  and  Maid 

many  holidays  he  spent  with  Fitz  and  his  fam- 
ily in  Ireland,  till  the  day,  two  years  ago,  when 
he  first  beheld  her  in  a  long  frock  with  her 
clouds  of  dusky  hair  bound  demurely  round  her 
head,  and  became  aware  with  a  little  shock  of 
foreboding  that  Lallie  was  growing  up — never 
had  he  doubted  her.  And  when  he  had  got 
accustomed  to  her  more  grown-up  appearance 
he  speedily  discovered  that  the  real  and  essen- 
tial Lallie  was  unchanged,  that  she  was  just  as 
kind  and  merry  and  easily  pleased,  just  as 
warm  hearted  and  quick  tempered,  as  neat  fin- 
gered and  capable  and  unexpected,  as  when 
her  frocks  reached  barely  to  her  knees. 

"If  I  had  seen  her  yesterday  I  don't  believe 
she  would  have  done  this,"  Tony  thought  to 
himself;  "it's  not  like  her  somehow  to  take 
the  opportunity  of  my  being  away  to  do  what 
she  knows  I  would  have  done  my  best  to  pre- 
vent had  I  been  at  home.  And  this  young 
Ballinger — he's  no  fit  guardian  for  Lallie  out 
hunting.  Confound  him!  I  wish  he  had  stayed 
in  his  own  shire.  Fitz  said  I  was  not  to  dis- 
courage him,  but  I'm  convinced  he  never  meant 
she  was  to  go  out  hunting  with  him.  I  sup- 
196 


Master  and  Maid 

pose  he  is  going  to  these  Chesters,  too;  prob- 
ably that's  why  she's  going.  I  know  nothing 
about  the  young  man,  but,  like  Charles  Lamb, 

'I'll  d him  at  a  venture/    It's  too  bad  of 

Fitz  shelving  his  parental  responsibilities  like 
this.  Suppose  anything  happened  to  her  to- 
day  " 

This  thought  was  so  disquieting  that  Tony 
got  up  and  walked  about  the  room.  Finally 
he  opened  and  read  his  letters.  Then  Miss 
Foster  came  and  added  to  his  anxieties  by  in- 
forming him  that  A.  J.  Tarrant,  a  new  boy,  had 
that  morning  started  a  bad  feverish  cold  and 
complained  of  sore  throat. 

"No  rash  yet,"  Miss  Foster  added  gloomily, 
"but  of  course  we've  isolated  him." 

Altogether  Tony  wished  he  could  have  stayed 
in  Oxford.  Yet  the  day  seemed  very  long,  and 
when  half-past  five  at  last  arrived  Tony  actu- 
ally sprinted  from  the  College  to  B.  House. 

A  great  wave  of  sound  met  him  as  he  opened 
the  front  door.  Lallie  was  playing  the  over- 
ture to  Tanhauser.  It  certainly  was  neither 
meek  nor  repentant  music.  Nevertheless  Tony 
ejaculated  "Thank  God!" 
197 


Master  and  Maid 

He  opened  the  drawing-room  door  very  gent- 
ly. The  ruddy  firelight  glowed  and  gloomed 
in  waves  of  flame  and  shadow,  but  the  opening 
of  the  door  let  in  a  long  shaft  of  light  from  the 
hall,  and  with  a  final  crash  of  chords  Lallie 
turned  on  the  piano  stool,  demanding: 

"Is  it  you,  Tony?" 

"I  didn't  need  to  ask  if  it  was  you,  and  it 
was  a  great  relief,  I  assure  you.  Had  you  a 
good  day?" 

Out  of  the  shadows  Lallie  came  forward  into 
the  ruddy  circle  of  light. 

"Your  voice  doesn't  sound  quite  pleased 
with  me,"  she  said.  "I  must  see  your  face 
to  make  sure.  Please  switch  on  a  light  and 
let  me  see." 

She  laid  her  little  hands  upon  his  shoulders 
and  looked  up  searchingly  into  his  face.  The 
bright  glare  of  the  electric  light  made  Tony 
blink,  and  he  was  so  inexpressibly  glad  to  see 
her  again  that  his  joy  wholly  crowded  out  the 
reproachful  expression  he  had  intended  his 
homely  features  to  assume. 

He  felt  an  overwhelming  desire  to  take 
her  in  his  arms,  kiss  her,  and  implore  her 
198 


Master  and  Maid 

to  swear  she  would  never  go  away  again.  It 
was  only  the  certainty  that  she  would  kiss 
him  back  with  the  best  will  in  the  world, 
probably  bursting  into  tears  of  repentance 
on  his  shoulder,  that  restrained  Tony.  He 
felt  that  it  would  not  be  playing  the  game. 
So  very  gently,  with  big  hands  that  trembled 
somewhat,  he  removed  those  that  lay  so 
lightly  on  his  shoulders  and  said,  in  a  matter- 
of-fact  voice: 

' '  Naturally  I  was  anxious.  You  see  I  thought 
we  had  agreed  that  there  was  to  be  no  hunting 
until  we  heard  from  your  father;  and  how 
could  I  tell  how  this — Mr.  Ballinger  might  have 
mounted  you?" 

Lallie  clasped  her  hands  loosely  in  front  of 
her,  and  stood  before  Tony  with  downcast 
eyes,  and  he  forgot  all  about  the  matter  under 
discussion  in  admiring  her  eyelashes. 

"I  didn't  exactly  promise,"  she  murmured; 
then  louder:  "no,  that's  mean  of  me,  and  un- 
truthful; I  broke  my  word.  I  knew  you 
wouldn't  wish  me  to  go — but  I  went — and  I 
enjoyed  it — rather.  Not  quite  so  much  as  I 
expected,  though  the  little  mare  went  like  a 
199 


Master  and  Maid 

bird.  It  was  quite  a  short  run;  I  was  back 
here  by  three  o'clock." 

"Who  brought  you  back?" 

"Who  brought  me  back?  My  dear,  good 
Tony,  I'm  not  a  parcel  nor  a  passenger;  I  came 
back.  I  studied  the  ordnance  map  of  this  dis- 
trict that's  hanging  in  your  study  for  a  good 
hour  last  night.  It  was  broad  daylight  when 
the  run  was  over,  and  it's  a  very  good  country 
for  signposts.  I  returned.  Did  you  see  Mr. 
Ballinger's  cards  in  the  hall?  He  came  fussing 
here  to  see  that  I  was  all  right  when  I  was  in 
the  middle  of  changing,  and  he  dutifully  asked 
for  Miss  Foster,  but  she'd  gone  to  the  sewing- 
meeting  for  the  Mission — I  ought  to  have  been 
there;  I  forgot  all  about  it;  I'm  so  sorry — 
and  she's  not  back  yet,  so  I  sent  down  word 
that  I  was  perfectly  all  right  and  resting,  so  he 
went  empty  away,  poor  man,  longing  for  tea, 
I've  no  doubt;  so  must  you  be,  we'll  have  it 
brought  in  here,  Miss  Foster  won't  be  back  till 
six.  Some  one's  reading  a  paper  to  them  while 
they  sew,  poor  things!  I'll  have  another  tea 
with  you,  Tony.  No  lunch  yesterday,  no  lunch 
to-day,  and  to-morrow  will  be  the  third  day, 
200 


Master  and  Maid 

though  Mr.  Ballinger  did  bring  me  a  beautiful 
box  of  sandwiches,  but  I  had  no  tune  to  eat 
them." 

"Mr.  Ballinger!  Why  should  he  bring  you 
sandwiches?  Why  didn't  you  ask  Matron  for 
some?" 

"Oh,  you  dear  goose!  How  could  I  ask  for 
sandwiches  when  I  was  supposed  to  be  going 
out  to  lunch.  What  would  Miss  Foster  have 
said?  Do  you  think  anybody  will  tell  her  I 
went  out  hunting  all  by  my  gay  lonesome?" 

"It  depends  how  many  people  knew  you  in 
the  field." 

"Ah,  there  you  touch  me  on  a  tender  spot. 
With  the  exception  of  one  old  curmudgeon  who 
used  to  hunt  sometimes  with  the  "Cockshots" 
at  Fareham  last  year,  there  was  no  one  I  knew 
at  all,  and  he  rode  all  round  me  staring,  and 
then  grunted  out,  'Where's  your  father,  Miss 
Clonmell?'  I  passed  him  at  the  first  fence, 
that's  one  comfort;  but  you're  right,  Tony — I 
missed  Dad.  People  stared  at  me.  It  was  all 
right  when  the  hounds  were  running,  I  forgot 
everything  and  everybody  but  the  fun  and  ex- 
citement, but  at  the  meet  it  was  horrid.  Is 
201 


Master  and  Maid 

your  tea  nice?  Oh,  it  is  good  to  have  you  back 
again!" 

"And  you  prove  your  joy  at  my  return  by 
going  off  to-morrow!" 

"That's  only  for  the  week-end.  I  always 
promised  them  to  help  at  their  old  meeting — 
and  me  a  Home-Ruler — isn't  it  an  anomaly?" 

"I  didn't  know  that  your  politics  were  so 
pronounced." 

"You  might  guess  I'd  be  'ag'in  the  Govern- 
ment/ whichever  party's  in  power.  Neither 
really  cares  a  jot  for  Ireland.  I  think  the 
Tories  are  perhaps  the  less  hypocritical  of  the 
two.  But  any  sort  of  a  political  meeting  is 
fun.  I  always  long  to  shout,  and  boo,  and 
kick  the  floor.  I  think  all  the  disturbances 
they're  able  to  make  is  what  is  so  supremely 
attractive  about  the  Suffragettes." 

"Are  you  a  Suffragette  as  well  as  a  Home- 
Ruler?  I  shall  begin  to  be  quite  afraid  of  you." 

"I  should  have  been  a  Suffragette  if  I  might 
have  gone  to  meetings,  carried  banners,  or 
thumped  on  a  gong  to  disturb  Mr.  Winston 
Churchill,  but  Dad  was  quite  stuffy  about  it, 
and  put  down  his  foot — really  put  down  his 
202 


Master  and  Maid 

foot  with  a  stamp;  fancy  Dad! — and  forbade 
me  to  have  anything  to  do  with  any  of  them, 
so  what  was  the  use?  It  wasn't  the  vote  I 
wanted." 

"Fitz  really  has,  upon  occasion,  wonderful 
flashes  of  common  sense,  even  in  his  dealings 
with  you." 

"Now  don't  you  be  pretending  to  think  Dad 
spoils  me,  for  you  know  very  well  he  does 
nothing  of  the  kind.  He  has  never  been  petty 
nor  interfering,  but  in  things  that  really  mat- 
ter, I'd  no  more  think  of  disobeying  him 

than " 

"Of  going  out  hunting  without  asking  his 
permission,"   Tony   suggested   mildly.    "And 
since  we  have  approached  the  subject  of  your 
general  submissiveness,  might  I  suggest  that 
you  fall  in  with  one  little  regulation  of  mine, 
mentioned  on  the  very  first  evening  you  came. 
Do  you  remember  my  asking  you  not  on  any 
account  to  use  the  boys'  part  of  the  house?" 
"Well,  neither  I  have,  ever" 
"What  about  the  back  staircase?" 
Lallie  flushed  angrily  and  began  indignantly, 
"It  wasn't  my — ";  then  suddenly  she  stopped 
203 


Master  and  Maid 

and  said  with  studied  gentleness,  "I'm  sorry, 
Tony;  you  did  forbid  me,  but  I  quite  forgot 
that  those  stairs  came  under  your  ban." 

Tony  smiled  at  her. 

"  That's  all  right  then.  You'll  remember  in 
future.  In  some  ways,  Lallie,  you  are  very 
like  a  boy." 

"Good  ways,  I  hope?"  her  voice  was  anx- 
ious. 

"Some  of  them  are  quite  good.  Some  of 
them — well,  they  are  apt  to  get  other  people  in 
trouble.  See  what  was  sent  to  me  by  the  in- 
censed master  to  whom  the  remarks  refer," 
and  Tony  held  out  to  her  a  large  sheet  of  lined 
paper,  closely  written  hi  her  own  neat  little 
upright  writing.  The  first  few  lines  comprised 
a  decorous  statement  to  the  effect  that  "Marl- 
borough  underrated  the  difficulty  of  managing 
a  coalition.  In  his  necessary  absence  abroad 
this  difficult  operation  was  in  the  hands  of 
Godolphin,  always  a  timid  minister  without 
any  real  political  convictions,"  when  suddenly 
the  style  of  the  Reverend  J.  Franck  Bright 
lapsed  into  the  wholly  indefensible  statement 
that  "cross  old  Nick  is  a  silly  old  Ass,"  and 
204 


Master  and  Maid 

this  was  repeated  line  after  line  throughout 
nearly  half  a  page. 

Lallie  gasped,  then  burst  into  uncontrollable 
laughter,  exclaiming: 

"It's  Cripps's  lines.  He  told  me  he  had  to 
do  five  hundred,  and  that  no  one  ever  looked 
at  them,  so  I  said  I'd  do  three  hundred  for  him 
as  he  wanted  awfully  to  play  fives  that  day. 
So  I  copied  the  dry  old  History  Book  till  I  was 
sick  to  death  of  the  long  words,  and  then  in  the 
middle  I  put  that  in  just  to  cheer  things  up. 
What  had  I  better  do?  Go  and  see  Mr.  Nichol, 
or  what?  He  simply  must  not  punish  Cripps. 
He  knew  nothing  whatever  about  it,  poor  boy. 
I  sent  him  the  lines  in  a  neat  bundle,  and  I 
don't  suppose  he  ever  looked  at  them." 

"As  it  happened  it  was  Mr.  Nichol  who 
looked  at  them,  for  Cripps  omitted  the  very 
simple  precaution  of  putting  his  own  pages  on 
the  top,  and  as  his  writing  in  no  way  resembles 
yours,  Mr.  Nichol  naturally  suspected  extrane- 
ous assistance.  He  turned  the  pages  over  and 
came  upon  the  one  you  have  in  your  hand — 
your  capital  'AV  simply  jump  to  the  eye. 
Naturally  he  was  much  annoyed,  and  I  am 
205 


Master  and  Maid 

sorry  to  say  he  describes  your  friend  Cripps  as 
'a  surly,  insubordinate  fellow/  and  demands 
that  he  should  be  starred." 

"But  he  can't  be  starred,  for  he  didn't  do 
it." 

"That,  very  naturally,  Cripps  did  not  ex- 
plain; and  after  all  he  is  responsible  for  the 
lines  he  gives  up." 

"Tony,  have  you  seen  Cripps?" 

"I  have." 

"Oh,  what  did  you  say?" 

"I  told  him  that  he  was  a  lazy  young  dog, 
and  ought  to  do  his  lines  himself;  that  I  hadn't 
an  ounce  of  sympathy  with  him,  and  that  he 
deserved  all  he  got  and  more;  but  I  need  hardly 
say  I  did  not  send  him  to  the  Principal  with 
the  suggestion  that  his  prefect's  star  should  be 
taken  from  him." 

"Oh,  Tony,  I  hear  Miss  Foster;  quick — 
ought  7  to  run  out  and  see  Mr.  Nichol?  I'm 
not  a  bit  afraid  of  him." 

"I  think  that  the  matter  may  now  rest  in 

oblivion;  only  let  me  offer  you  one  bit  of  sound 

advice.    If  you  are  charitable  enough  to  help 

any  poor  beggar  with  his  lines,  write  large; 

206 


Master  and  Maid 

it's  a  fearful  waste  of  energy  to  do  neat  little 
writing  like  that — eight  words  to  a  line  is  the 
regulation  thing — and,  for  Heaven's  sake  re- 
frain from  personal  remarks." 

"Tony,  you  are  a  real  dear.  I  will  fly  now, 
for  Miss  Foster  may  want  to  talk  to  you  about 
the  house." 

Lallie  darted  at  Tony,  dropped  a  hasty  kiss 
on  the  top  of  his  head,  and  fled  across  the  room, 
opening  the  door  to  admit  Miss  Foster,  who 
had  removed  her  outdoor  things.  She  never 
came  into  a  sitting-room  before  going  upstairs; 
she  considered  it  slovenly. 

Tony  folded  the  large  closely  written  sheet 
of  paper  containing  the  reiterated  animadver- 
sions upon  the  intelligence  of  Mr.  Nichol  senior, 
put  it  in  his  pocket,  and  rose  to  place  a  chair 
for  Miss  Foster,  who  regarded  the  tea  things 
with  a  look  of  acute  distress. 

"I  took  the  opportunity,"  Tony  remarked, 
"of  speaking  to  Miss  Clonmell  on  the  subject 
you  mentioned  to  me  yesterday  afternoon,  and 
— er — I  reminded  her  that  I  had  on  her  first 
arrival  asked  her  on  no  account  to  use  the  boys' 
part  of  the  house."  Here  Tony  made  a  little 
207 


Master  and  Maid 

pause,  as  though  he  expected  Miss  Foster  to 
make  some  observation.  "I  confess  that  the 
fact  of  her  being  on  that  staircase  at  all  did 
surprise  me,"  he  added  meditatively,  look- 
ing full  at  Miss  Foster  with  kind,  beseeching 
eyes. 

That  lady  flushed  and  sat  up  very  straight 
in  her  chair,  but  she  did  not  meet  his  gaze. 

"What  explanation  did  Miss  Clonmell  give?" 
she  asked. 

5  "None;  she  expressed  regret  that  she  had 
forgotten  my  prohibition,  but  said  that  she  did 
not  suppose  that  staircase  came  under  it,  though 
why,  I  can't  imagine." 

Again  Miss  Foster  felt  herself  encompassed 
by  that  glance,  so  full  of  dumb,  entreating 
kindness.  This  time  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his 
and  met  them  fairly  as  she  said  slowly: 

"Perhaps  I  am  somewhat  to  blame  for  Miss 
ClonmelPs  presence  upon  that  staircase,  though 
you  may  imagine  I  never  dreamt  of  the  use  to 
which  she  would  put  it.  I  confess  that  it  never 
occurred  to  me  as  being  in  any  way  objection- 
able during  the  day.  The  boys  never  go  up 
or  down,  and  she  often  has  such  exceedingly 
208 


Master  and  Maid 

muddy  boots — I  may  have  even  suggested  she 
should  go  that  way.  I  am  sorry " 

"It  doesn't  matter  in  the  least  really,"  Tony 
said  heartily,  and  his  whole  face  beamed. 
"Thank  you  very  much  for  explaining." 

He  did  not  add  that  it  was  just  what  he  had 
suspected  from  the  first  moment  that  Lallie's 
frivolous  conduct  was  revealed  to  him;  but  he 
meant  Miss  Foster  to  own  up,  and  she  had 
owned  up.  Had  she  failed  to  do  so  Tony  could 
never  have  respected  her  again. 

"As  to  Lallie,"  he  reflected  tenderly,  "you 
never  know  what  she'll  do  next,  but  there  are 
things  you  can  depend  on  her  not  doing,  and 
that's  to  try  and  drag  any  one  else  into  the  un- 
pleasant results  of  her  vagaries.  She'll  never 
go  back  on  any  one,  never  make  mischief;  and 
who  the  devil  is  Ballinger  that  he  should  have 
all  this?" 


209 


CHAPTER  XV 

THAT  evening  Lallie  went  into  the  study 
to  say  good-night  to  Tony.  He  was 
reading  by  the  fire,  and  she  came  and  sat  on 
the  floor  at  his  feet,  leaning  back  against  his 
knees  as  she  had  done  on  the  evening  he  cor- 
rected papers  in  the  drawing-room.  The  green 
silk  bag  was  slung  over  her  arm,  but  her  work 
was  allowed  to  remain  therein,  and  for  once 
she  was  content  to  let  her  hands  lie  idle. 

"I've  come  early,"  she  announced, " because 
if  you're  not  very  busy  I'd  like  a  little  chat. 
I've  turned  out  the  lights  and  shut  the  door,  for 
Miss  Foster's  not  coming  down  again,  she  says. 
Isn't  it  funny  to  like  to  go  to  bed  so  early?" 

"She  gets  up  early,  I  expect;  and  perhaps 
she's  very  tired  at  night.  Wouldn't  you  like  a 
cushion  or  something,  don't  you  find  the  floor 
very  hard?" 

"I'm  quite  comfortable,  thank  you.  Now 
listen  to  me,  Tony.  Do  you  think  I'm  getting 
210 


Master  and  Maid 

to  an  age  when  I'd  be  better  with  a  home  of 
my  own?" 

With  a  mental  ejaculation  of  "Ballinger!" 
Tony  adjusted  his  mind  to  the  question,  saying 
quickly: 

"But  surely  you've  got  that  already." 

"No,  Tony;  that's  just  what  I  have  not  got. 
As  long  as  old  Madame  was  alive  it  was  all 
right.  Dad  came  and  went  as  he  pleased,  but 
there  was  always  the  house  for  Paddy  and  me, 
whether  we  were  in  France  or  in  Ireland.  But 
lately  I've  begun  to  feel  I'm  a  bit  of  a  drag  on 
Dad;  you  know  how  restless  he  is  sometimes, 
how  unexpected " 

"It's  a  family  failing,  Lallie,"  Tony  inter- 
rupted. 

"And,  you  see,  when  he  rushes  off  he  won't 
leave  me  alone  in  whatever  house  we  happen 
to  be  hi,  and  Aunt  Emileen  seems  no  comfort 
to  him  unless  he's  hi  the  house  along  with  her; 
and  there's  all  the  fuss  of  arranging  for  me, 
and  I'm  sent  off  here  and  there  on  visits, 
whether  I  like  it  or  not;  and  I  begin  to  feel 
that  I've  no  abiding  place  at  all." 

"Is  your  visit  here  one  of  the  'nots'?" 
211 


Master  and  Maid 

"Now  that's  nasty  of  you.  You  know  I 
meant  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  I  jumped  for 
joy  when  Dad  said  I  should  come  to  you  for  all 
these  months;  but  when  Dad  has  been  home 
for  a  bit  and  the  first  delight  in  having  me 
again  has  worn  off,  he'll  want  to  be  wandering. 
If  it's  wandering  I  can  do  too,  that's  all  right. 
I  love  going  about  with  Dad,  but  if  it's  some- 
where that  he  doesn't  care  to  take  me,  like  this 
time,  then  it'll  all  come  over  again — the  plac- 
ing out — and  I  hate  it." 

"But,  Lallie,  most  young  people  like  plenty 
of  change  and  variety;  the  one  thing  they  can- 
not away  with  is  monotony.  That's  what 
most  of  them,  girls  especially,  complain  of." 

"Tony,  I'm  going  to  make  a  confession." 
Lallie  turned  half  round,  and  leaning  an  elbow 
on  his  knee  lifted  her  face,  earnest  and  serious, 
so  that  she  might  look  into  his.  "I'm  fond  of 
a  house.  I  like  housekeeping,  and  pottering,  and 
looking  after  things,  and  ordering  dinner,  and 
sewing,  and  mending,  and  arranging  flowers, 
and  cooking  if  I  want  to,  and  I  can  cook  well ; 
and  you  can't  do  any  of  these  things  in  other 
people's  houses — at  least,  only  the  sewing  part." 
212 


Master  and  Maid 

"I'm  sure  you  may  cook  here  if  you  wish  to. 
I'll  undertake  to  eat  anything  you  make  if  it's 
really  good." 

"Oh,  it's  not  that.  I  don't  mean  that  I'd 
like  to  be  always  cooking,  but  I  like  to  feel  that 
I've  got  a  house  to  look  after — my  own  house. 
I'd  be  perfectly  happy  if  Dad  wanted  a  house, 
but  he  doesn't.  He  kept  it  up  for  Paddy  and 
me  when  we  were  small  because  he  thought  it 
was  the  right  thing  to  do;  but  now  he  doesn't 
seem  to  think  it  so  necessary.  Poor  man,  he's 
too  young  to  have  grown-up  children,  Tony, 
and  that's  a  fact.  He  has  small  patience  with 
Paddy,  because,  you  know,  their  interests 
clash.  It's  different  with  a  woman,  the  younger 
she  is  the  prouder  is  she  to  have  grown-up  sons 
and  the  cleverer  she  thinks  herself  that  they  are 
grown  up.  Don't  you  think  I'm  right?" 

"Your  generalisation,"  Tony  began  deliber- 
ately, when  Lallie  interrupted  by  pinching  his 
knee  and  exclaiming: 

"Now,  none  of  the  schoolmaster,  I  won't 
have  it." 

"As  I  was  about  to  remark  when  you  inter- 
rupted me,  what  you  say  has  a  certain  amount 
213 


Master  and  Maid 

of  truth  in  it,  but  your  father  has  not  yet  re- 
turned from  India.  When  he  does  return  he 
may  not  feel  the  slightest  inclination  for  wan- 
dering; at  any  rate,  not  for  some  considerable 
tune — so  why  worry?" 

"I  should  like  to  feel  settled  and  secure." 

"My  dear  Lallie,  you'll  never  feel  settled, 
you're  not  that  sort;  and  as  to  security, 
pray  in  what  way  do  you  feel  insecure  at 
present?" 

Lallie  removed  her  elbow  from  Tony's  knee, 
she  leant  back  against  him  again  so  that  he 
could  not  see  her  face,  and  said,  very  low: 

"I  feel  insecure  because  in  the  course  of 
the  next  few  weeks  I'll  have  to  make  up 
my  mind  definitely  one  way  or  other,  and 
whichever  way  it  is,  it  seems  to  me  I  shall 
regret  it." 

Again  the  whole  of  Tony's  mentality  fairly 
cried  the  name  of  Ballinger  aloud,  and  al- 
though the  stillness  in  the  quiet  room  was  so 
great  that  you  might  have  heard  a  pin  drop  it 
seemed  that  his  thought  must  have  reached 
Lallie,  for  she  broke  the  silence  by  saying  in 
quite  a  different  tone : 

214 


Master  and  Maid 

"I  wish  you  had  met  Dad's  friend,  Mr.  Bal- 
linger,  Tony;  I'd  like  to  know  what  you  think 
of  him." 

"That  can  be  easily  managed;  we'll  ask  him 
to  dinner  when  you  come  back." 

"He  is  going  to  the  Chesters,  you  know." 

"I  didn't  know,  but  I'm  glad  to  hear  it  for 
your  sake,  since  you  like  him." 

"Then  you  don't  think  I'd  be  better  in  a 
home  of  my  own — married,  I  mean,"  said  Lai- 
lie  with  startling  bluntness. 

"I  never  said  anything  of  the  kind." 

"Well,  you  didn't  seem  to  smile  upon  the 
notion." 

"The  notion,  as  you  call  it,  appears  to  me 
in  itself  quite  admirable,  if  not  exactly  novel; 
but  you  would  need  to  make  sure,  wouldn't 
you?  that  the  husband — I  think  a  husband  is 
included  in  your  scheme  of  felicity — is  in  keep- 
ing— hi  the  picture  as  it  were." 

Tony's  voice  was  dry  as  that  in  which  he  in- 
stilled the  rules  of  prosody  into  his  form.  In 
fact  it  was  less  impassioned,  for  on  occasion  he 
waxed  eloquent  though  vituperative  when  deal- 
ing with  that  form's  Latin  prose. 
215 


Master  and  Maid 

Again  Lallie  turned  half  round  and  leant  her 
elbow  on  his  knee.  Again  her  grey  eyes 
searched  his  face,  apparently  in  vain,  for  some 
clue  to  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke. 

"I  wish  I  was  a  rich  widow,"  she  said  vindic- 
tively, "with  a  nice  little  place  of  my  own, 
then  there'd  be  no  bother  at  all,  and  you  could 
come  and  stay  with  me  and  arrange  cricket 
matches  all  the  summer  holidays.  I'd  put  up 
that  eleven  you  always  go  off  with,  and  we'd 
have  a  cricket  week  and  lovely  times." 

"The  prospect  is  certainly  pleasing,"  Tony 
remarked,  without  enthusiasm;  "but  it  seems 
to  me  a  little  callous  on  your  part  to  be  so  anx- 
ious to  kill  off  your  husband  before  ever  you've 
tried  one." 

"Do  you  think  Mr.  Johns  would  make  a  nice 
husband?"  Lallie  asked  in  a  detached,  imper- 
sonal sort  of  way. 

"Good  heavens!    How  should  I  know?    I 
hope  he  won't  think  of  being  any  one's  husband 
for  years  to  come.    He  couldn't  keep  a  wife; 
for  one  thing,  he's  too  poor." 

"Oh,  but  he  is  sure  to  get  on;   he'll  be  a 
headmaster  some  day.    You'll  see.    I  never 
216 


Master  and  Maid 

met  a  young  man  who  was  more  wrapped  up  in 
his  profession.  He's  influencing  boys  all  day 
long." 

''By  Jove!  is  he  though?  I'm  glad  to  hear 
it." 

"I  think  he'd  be  a  very  kind  husband,"  said 
Lallie,  "but  a  bit  boring  sometimes.  I  sup- 
pose I'd  better  be  thinking  of  bed.  You  haven't 
helped  me  much,  Tony,"  and  Lallie  arose  and 
stood  in  front  of  him,  slender  and  upright,  in 
her  straight  green  gown.  Tony  rose  too. 

"I  don't  quite  know  what  you  wanted  me 
to  say,  Lallie,  but  I'd  like  to  say  this:  Don't 
you  marry  anybody  for  the  sake  of  having  a 
house  of  your  own.  Your  mother's  daughter 
is  capable  of  something  finer  and  better  than 
that.  I  cannot  in  all  my  experience  recall 
such  a  happy  marriage  as  hers.  Child,  there  is 
such  a  thing.  Don't  you  believe  people  who 
say  that  respect,  and  affection,  and  mutual 
suitability,  and  all  the  rest  of  it  are  one  atom 
of  good  if  you're  not  in  love  with  the  man. 
You  spoke  to-night  of  your  father's  restlessness. 
Do  you  think  he  would  have  been  like  that  if 
your  mother  had  lived?  It  was  simply  that  he 
217 


Master  and  Maid 

had  the  most  perfect  home  man  ever  had  on 
this  earth;  and  when  she  was  taken  away  from 
him  the  wrench  destroyed  his  will-power,  and 
he  has  been  at  the  mercy  of  his  impulses  ever 
since.  Never  judge  him,  Lallie;  he  can't  help 
it." 

The  tears  welled  up  into  Lallie's  eyes. 

"I  don't  judge  him,"  she  faltered;  "it's  my- 
self I  judge,  and  blame,  and  yet  I  tried  so  hard 
to  make  his  home  happy  and  comfortable,  so 
that  he'd  want  to  stay  with  me;  and  I  can 
make  a  nice  home,  I  really  can,  but  it  wasn't 
enough  for  Dad.  Last  winter  I  thought  we 
were  settled.  He  liked  the  hunting,  and  we 
were  so  happy,  and  had  such  jokes  about  Aunt 
Emileen,  but  it  all  came  to  an  end — and  he'd 
like  me  to  marry,  Tony;  that's  the  har-r-d 
part." 

The  big  tears  hung  on  Lallie's  lashes,  the  cor- 
ners of  her  mouth  drooped,  and  she  looked  so 
small,  and  pathetic,  and  forlorn  that  Tony 
fairly  turned  his  back  upon  her  and  leant  his 
arms  on  the  chimneypiece,  staring  with  the 
greatest  interest  at  the  shield  bearing  his  col- 
lege arms,  which  he  did  not  see. 
218 


Master  and  Maid 

"I  am  convinced,"  he  said,  and  his  voice 
was  almost  gruff,  "that  your  father  would  hate 
to  think  you  married  anybody  simply  for  the 
sake  of  getting  married.  Of  course  he  would 
like  to  see  you  well  and  happily  married — 
but- 

" Good-night,  Tony,"  Lallie  said  meekly. 

He  turned  and  shook  her  outstretched  hand 
and  stood  at  the  door  watching  her  as  she 
went  slowly  up  the  stairs  with  drooping  head 
and  deep  depression  in  every  line  of  the  slender 
little  figure  that  always  looked  so  much  taller 
than  it  really  was.  She  never  turned  her  head 
to  look  back  at  him,  and  Tony  shut  the  door 
and  sat  down  at  his  desk  with  a  groan. 

Matron  was  right:  he'd  got  it  late,  and  he'd 
got  it  badly.  But  she  was  wrong  when  she 
informed  Val  that  he  didn't  know  what  was 
the  matter  with  him. 

He  cursed  himself  for  an  old  fool;  for  a  be- 
trayer of  trust;  for  a  dog  in  the  manger. 

Fitz  wanted  Lallie  to  marry  this  Ballinger; 
told  him  so.  And  here  was  he,  Tony  Bevan, 
actually  using  what  influence  he  had  to  pre- 
vent her  doing  anything  of  the  kind.  Fitz 
219 


Master  and  Maid 

wouldn't  want  it  unless  Ballinger  were  a  good 
fellow.  He  knew  Ballinger  and  Tony  didn't. 
Was  it  likely  that  Fitz  would  be  anxious  for 
the  marriage  unless  Ballinger  was  the  best 
of  good  fellows?  And  yet,  he,  Tony,  who 
knew  nothing  whatever  about  the  man,  had 
interfered.  "But  she  doesn't  love  him!" 
cried  this  old  fool,  this  betrayer  of  a  father's 
trust. 

"How  do  you  know?"  sternly  demanded  the 
inward  mentor;  "is  she  a  girl  to  wear  her  heart 
upon  her  sleeve?  She  may  be  deeply  in  love 
with  him,  but  won't  confess  it  to  herself  even, 
just  because  he  is  rich  and  eligible,  and  because 
she  would  like  a  home  of  her  own." 

"She  doesn't  seem  a  bit  in  love  with  him," 
pleaded  the  fatuous  one.  "Lallie  in  love 
would " 

The  mentor  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  re- 
tired, for  Tony  Bevan  had  embarked  upon  a 
sea  of  speculation  so  deliciously  problematical, 
so  wholly  removed  from  such  sober  themes  as 
duty  and  expediency,  that  it  was  hopeless  just 
then  by  the  clearest  call  to  reach  ears  that 
were  deaf  to  all  but  the  siren  song. 
220 


Master  and  Maid 

"I  wonder,"  mused  Tony,  "if  I'd  met  her 
now  for  the  first  time,  if  she  hadn't  always  put 
me  down  as  a  friend  of  her  father's,  worlds 
away  from  any  touch  of  sentiment — I  wonder 
if,  as  a  mere  man,  I  might  have  had  a  chance. 
Upon  my  soul  I'd  have  tried  for  it." 

For  a  good  half  hour  Tony  sat  dreaming; 
then  he  stooped  and  patted  Val,  remarking, 
"I'm  d — d  if  she's  in  love  with  Ballinger,"  and 
Val  wagged  his  tail  in  cordial  assent. 


221 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"From  LALLIE  CLONMELL,  B.  HOUSE,  HAMCHESTER  COL- 
LEGE, TO  FITZEOY  CLONMELL,  c/o  MESSRS.  KING  AND 
Co.,  BOMBAY,  INDIA. 

"1\  yTY  DARLING  DAD, 

1VJL  "It's  eleven  o'clock  at  night  and  I 
ought  to  be  getting  to  bed,  but  it's  mail  day  to- 
morrow and  I'm  going  to  the  Chesters  at  Fare- 
ham  quite  early,  so  I'll  do  your  letter  to-night. 
I'm  sleepy  enough,  for  I've  been  out  with 
the  Hamchester  hounds  to-day.  Mr.  Ballinger 
has  come  to  hunt  here,  why,  I  leave  you  to 
imagine,  and  he  mounted  me  and  took  me. 
Tony  had  forbidden  me  to  go  till  we  heard 
from  you,  but  he  went  to  Oxford;  then  I  met 
Mr.  Ballinger;  then  I  had  ever  such  a  row  with 
Miss  Foster,  and  I  felt  reckless;  and  as  Tony 
was  not  there  to  make  me  feel  conscientious 
or  repentant  I  went.  I  didn't  enjoy  it  much, 
though  the  day  and  the  little  mare  and  the  run 
were  all  as  good  as  they  could  be.  Mr.  Ballinger 
is  going  to  the  Chesters  also.  There's  a  Prim- 
rose meeting  to-morrow  night,  and  I've  got  to 
sing  some  absurd  tum-ti-tum  sort  of  Jingo  song 
222 


Master  and  Maid 

about  Empire  and  Tariff  Reform  and  a  large 
loaf.  They  call  it  a  'topical'  song  over  here. 
I'd  much  rather  sing  them  'The  Vicar  of  Bray* 
or  'Love's  Young  Dream*  or  'Rory  O'More/ 
but  they  won't  let  me.  I  offered  to. 

"Dad,  dear,  you  will  have  gathered  from  my 
letters  that  Miss  Foster  and  I  do  not  exactly 
hit  it  off.  I  could  forgive  her  not  liking  me, 
though  I  think  it's  bad  taste  on  her  part,  if 
only  she  wouldn't  treat  me  as  though  I  were  a 
contagious  disease.  The  boys  call  her  Germs, 
but  indeed  it's  me  that  she  makes  feel  a  mass 
of  microbes  of  the  most  noxious  kind.  She's 
rude,  Dad,  downright  rude;  and  it  would  be 
absurd  to  say  she  doesn't  mean  it,  for  she  does. 
And  what's  more,  she  takes  care  that  I  know 
she  means  it.  I  wouldn't  mind  a  bit  if  she  was 
ever  so  peraicketty  and  peppery  if  only  she 
would  be  kind  and  pleasant  sometimes,  but 
she  never  is  pleasant — to  me.  And  yet  I  can't 
help  admiring  her  for  the  way  she  looks  after 
B.  House.  She  really  loves  the  boys,  and  if 
one  of  them  is  the  least  little  bit  ill  Miss  Foster 
is  in  a  dreadful  way.  Both  she  and  Tony  are 
very  worried  just  now  because  a  boy  is  ill. 
They  fear  he  has  got  scarlet  fever.  There  has 
been  a  case  in  another  house. 

"Miss  Foster  has  taken  it  into  her  head  that 
I  am  bad  for  the  boys,  and  that's  one  reason 
223 


Master  and  Maid 

why  she  dislikes  me.  In  what  way  I'm  bad 
for  them  I  don't  know,  and  any  that  I  have 
met  seem  to  like  talking  to  me,  but  whenever 
they  do,  I  can  see  she  is  worried.  I  think  she 
likes  Tony  awfully — but  who  doesn't?  Yet  she 
doesn't  seem  to  make  a  really  comfortable 
home  for  him  somehow.  As  for  poor  Paunch! 
she  hates  him  as  much  as  she  hates  me,  and 
never  says  a  civil  word  to  him. 

" Paunch  and  I  are  great  friends;  we  sit  and 
shiver  together  in  the  chill  blast  of  Miss  Foster's 
displeasure,  and  'a  fellow  feeling  makes  us  won- 
drous kind,'  especially  Paunch.  He  is  a  most 
earnest  young  man,  Dad;  all  day  long  he  is 
thinking  of  the  influence  he  may  be  on  others, 
and  the  result  is  that  Tony,  who  never  thinks 
about  himself  at  all,  makes  far  more  impression 
when  he  tells  a  boy  he's  a  silly  young  ass  than 
Paunch  would  if  he  talked  about  ideals  till 
Doomsday.  It's  very  odd  how  the  boys  really 
care  what  Tony  thinks;  of  course  they  don't 
say  so,  but  any  one  can  see  it.  Mr.  Johns  is 
awfully  good  at  games,  so  the  boys  respect 
that.  The  other  day  I  asked  Mr.  Hamilton, 
one  of  the  pre's,  if  Tony  ever  gave  them  a 
'pi-jaw'  as  they  call  it. 

"He  looked  very  funny  for  a  minute,  and 
then  he  said,  'I  don't  know  any  one  I'd  sooner 
go  to  than  old  Bruiser  if  I  was  in  a  very  bad 
224 


Master  and  Maid 

mess/  It  wasn't  an  answer  to  my  question, 
but  it  was  enlightening  all  the  same.  Tony 
makes  me  think  of  those  lines  at  the  beginning 
of 'Stalky': 

"  'For  they  taught  us  common  sense, 
Tried  to  teach  us  common  sense, 
Truth  and  God's  own  common  sense, 
Which  is  more  than  knowledge.' 

"I  was  reading  'Stalky'  last  night,  and  that 
seemed  to  me  to  explain  Tony.  The  queer 
thing  is  that  both  Mr.  Johns  and  Miss  Foster, 
though  they  love  him  dearly,  think  Tony  is  a 
bit  of  a  slacker.  Miss  Foster,  because  he  will 
not  work  himself  up  into  a  fever  whenever 
there's  a  rumour  of  mumps  or  chicken-pox; 
and  Mr.  Johns  because  Tony  never  talks  about 
moral  training,  and  never  seems  to  be  watch- 
ing or  prying  about  the  boys;  and  yet  I  re- 
member Paddy  saying  that  somehow  undesir- 
able chaps  never  come  back  to  B.  House, 
though  how  or  why  nobody  never  knows,  and 
I'm  certain  Tony's  ideals  are  quite  as  high  as 
Mr.  Johns',  although  he  never  talks  about 
them. 

"I  think  it's  rather  a  great  thing,  don't  you, 

to  send  so  many  boys  out  into  the  world  so  that 

they  keep  straight  and  work  and  are  useful 

members  of  the  community,  and  so  that  they 

225 


Master  and  Maid 

remember  you  and  know  you'd  be  awfully 
sorry  if  things  went  wrong.  All  the  years  I've 
known  Tony,  I've  thought  it  such  a  pity  he 
was  anything  so  humdrum  as  a  schoolmaster. 
Since  I've  been  here  I  don't  think  that  any 
more.  I  think  it's  such  a  jolly  good  thing  for 
all  the  boys  who've  come  under  him.  I  wish 
he'd  had  the  house  all  the  time  Paddy  was 
there;  but  then,  Paddy  had  him  in  the  holi- 
days, so  it  didn't  matter  so  much. 

"Paddy  seems  very  happy  at  the  Shop.  He 
knows  a  lot  of  gunner  people  outside,  and  he 
goes  out  every  Saturday  and  Sunday,  but  he's 
rather  sick  that  they  don't  ride  till  their  sec- 
ond term. 

"  Please  don't  fancy  I'm  unhappy  here,  I 
like  it  awfully.  Every  one  is  as  kind  and 
jolly  as  possible,  and  the  attitude  of  Germs 
just  gives  the  necessary  touch  of  excitement 
to  the  situation.  She  positively  dislikes  mu- 
sic, poor  woman,  so  I  must  be  a  trying  guest. 
I'm  obliged  to  practise,  for  I'm  always  singing 
somewhere.  The  music-hater  is  decidedly  in 
the  minority  in  this  world. 

"I'm  afraid,  Dad,  that  Mr.  Ballinger  means 
to  propose  again  very  shortly,  and  Tony  says 
I  ought  not  to  marry  any  one  I'm  not  really  in 
love  with,  and  I  can't  imagine  myself  in  love 
with  Mr.  Ballinger,  though  I  do  like  him,  really, 
226 


Master  and  Maid 

he's  so  kind  and  nice  and  says  such  agreeable 
things. 

"Tony  is  not  so  amusing  here  as  at  home. 
He's  a  tiny  bit  stiff  sometimes.  I  suppose  it's 
the  atmosphere.  It  must  be  awful  to  think  all 
the  time  about  setting  an  example,  like  Mr. 
Johns — so  tiring.  But  he  seems  to  thrive 
under  it,  and  Tony  says  he'll  be  stout  if  he 
doesn't  take  care. 

"I  hope  you'll  bring  back  a  lot  of  nice  skins. 
They're  a  mangy  lot  in  the  drawing-room  over 
in  Kerry,  some  new  ones  will  be  a  great  im- 
provement. 

"Please  write  me  longer  letters,  dear  Dad. 
I'm  very  homesick  sometimes,  and  I  miss 
Bridget,  but  she  could  never  have  got  on  with 
Miss  Foster;  and  if  she  heard  Miss  Foster  speak 
nastily  to  me  there  would  be  wigs  on  the  green 
indeed.  It's  a  good  thing  Biddy  is  not  here. 

"I  wonder  why  extreme  monotony  in  the 
matter  of  meals  is  considered  so  beneficial  to 
the  youthful  palate.  It  wouldn't  cost  a  penny 
more  to  have  a  little  variety,  but  they  never  do 
in  the  houses.  There's  heaps  and  heaps  to  eat, 
even  the  boys  own  that,  but  it  is  so  dull  for 
them  having  the  same  things  over  and  over 
again.  I'd  love  to  go  into  Tony's  kitchen  and 
teach  that  cook  of  his  how  to  make  real  good 
soup  and  a  proper  haricot.  Dinner  is  always 
227 


Master  and  Maid 

a  nice  meal,  but  Miss  Foster  has  no  imagina- 
tion. I  wonder  what  she'd  do  if  she  had  to 
keep  house  for  you.  She'd  probably  grovel  to 
you  because  you'd  bully  her.  Now,  as  it  is, 
she  bullies  Tony,  and  he  can't  call  his  soul  his 
own.  They  say,  (Who  are  they?  I  hear  you 
ask),  well,  rumour  Tiath  it  that  if  Tony  ever 
wants  to  get  married  he'll  have  to  do  it  in  the 
holidays  secretly,  and  then  bring  his  wife  home 
to  have  it  out  with  Miss  Foster.  I  can't  im- 
agine Tony  married,  can  you?  Oh,  I'd  hate  it. 
I  do  hope  he  won't. 

"Good-night,  my  dearest  Dad.  I'm  really 
quite  good  here  on  the  whole,  though  I  did  dis- 
obey Tony  about  hunting  just  this  once. 

"Your  own  loving  daughter, 

"LALLIE." 


228 


CHAPTER  XVII 

T ARRANT  had  got  scarlet-fever,  and  very 
badly  too. 

He  was  removed  to  the  fever  hospital  on 
Friday,  and  by  Sunday  morning  it  looked  as 
though  things  would  go  hardly  with  Tarrant. 
There  were  complications,  and  the  boy  seemed 
to  have  no  power,  either  mental  or  physical,  to 
resist  the  disease. 

So  ill  was  he  that  the  Principal  went  to  see 
him  after  morning  chapel.  Tarrant  was  quite 
conscious,  and  made  whispered,  suitable  answers 
to  Dr.  Wentworth's  kind  and  serious  remarks. 

"Keep  your  heart  up,"  said  the  Principal 
just  before  he  left;  "remember  that  we  are  all 
thinking  about  you  and  praying  that  you  may 
get  well." 

"Did  they  pray  for  me  hi  chapel?"  Tairant 
asked. 

On  being  assured  that  this  was  so,  the  boy 
turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  feeling  that  all  was 
229 


Master  and  Maid 

over  for  him.  Like  a  good  many  older  folk 
who  ought  to  know  better,  Tarrant  thought 
that  to  be  prayed  for  in  public  proved  that  the 
case  was  indeed  desperate. 

He  had  been  prayed  for  in  chapel! 

Only  people  who  were  very  ill,  who  were 
going  to  die,  were  ever  prayed  for  hi  chapel. 
Chaps  had  told  him  so. 

There  was  a  chap  died  in  the  Easter  term, 
and  he'd  been  prayed  for  in  chapel  for  a  fort- 
night. 

Tarrant  was  too  weak  to  be  much  upset.  It 
was  a  footling  thing  to  do,  to  die  in  one's  first 
term,  but  it  couldn't  be  helped.  Rotten  luck 
though!  Old  Bruiser  would  be  awfully  cut  up. 
Fellows  had  told  him  how  cut  up  old  Nick  was 
when  that  chap  died  in  his  house,  and  Bruiser 
was  a  jolly  sight  decenter  than  old  Nick. 

What  ought  a  chap  to  think  about  when  he 
was  dying?  Religion  and  that,  he  supposed. 
He  tried  to  remember  a  hymn,  but  the  only 
hymns  that  really  appealed  to  Tarrant  were 
those  with  "jf."  against  several  of  the  verses, 
when  the  Coll.  all  sang  at  the  tops  of  their 
voices  and  nearly  lifted  the  roof  off  the  chapel. 
230 


Master  and  Maid 

And  somehow  he  didn't  feel  very  jubilant  just 
then. 

Again  he  tried  to  think  of  something  sooth- 
ing and  suitable,  but  the  only  thing  he  could 
remember  was  a  bit  of  a  French  exercise — 
"The  nature  of  Frederick  William  was  harsh 
and  bad."  And  this  he  found  himself  saying 
over  and  over  again. 

The  kind  nurse  bent  down  to  hear  what  he 
was  muttering,  but  all  she  could  catch  was 
" harsh  and  bad,"  and  she  wondered  if  he  had 
been  bullied  in  B.  House. 

From  the  nature  of  Frederick  William,  Tar- 
rant's  wandering  thoughts  turned  to  Germs. 

What  a  stew  old  Germs  would  be  in! 

She  was  kind  though;  he  remembered  that 
with  dreamy  gratitude.  She  hated  chaps  to 
be  ill,  and  did  her  level  best  to  make  them 
comfortable.  All  the  house  said  that.  But 
my  aunt!  she  was  afraid  of  infection,  and  fever 
was  awfully  infectious.  Now  Dr.  Wentworth 
wasn't  afraid,  and  he  had  kids.  Bruiser  wasn't 
afraid  either;  but  you  wouldn't  expect  Bruiser 
to  be  afraid  of  things.  He  had  a  comfortable 
big  hand,  had  Bruiser.  Tarrant  wasn't  capa- 
231 


Master  and  Maid 

ble  of  wishing  for  much,  but  he  rather  wished 
Bruiser  could  have  stayed.  He  felt  less  like 
floating  away  into  space  when  Bruiser  held  him. 

What  was  it  Bruiser  had  said? 

"You  must  buck  up,  you  know.  Think  of 
your  father  and  mother  in  India,  how  worried 
they'll  be." 

Poor  mater,  it  would  be  a  bad  knock  for  her. 
The  pater,  too,  he'd  been  at  the  good  old  Coll. 
— his  name  was  up  in  the  big  Modern. 

Tarrant  supposed  the  chaps  would  subscribe 
for  a  wreath.  They  did  for  that  other  chap. 
Briggs  minor  told  him.  He  wondered  what 
sort  of  a  wreath  it  would  be;  he  hoped  it  would 
be  nice  and  large. 

What  was  that  hymn  they  had  in  chapel 
last  Sunday  evening?  Ah,  he  had  thought  of 
a  hymn  at  last — 

"Sweet  Saviour,  bless  us  ere  we  go; 
Thy  word  into  our  minds  instil, 
And  make  our  luke-warm  hearts  to  glow 
With  lowly  love  and  fervent  will.  .  .  ." 

He  wished  his  heart  would  have  glowed,  but 

somehow  it  refused  to  do  anything  of  the  kind. 

232 


Master  and  Maid 

It  had  a  nice  cheerful  tune,  that  hymn,  es- 
pecially the  last  two  lines — 

"Through  life's  long  day  and  death's  dark  night, 
O  gentle  Jesus,  be  our  light." 

Would  it  be  very  dark?  he  wondered.  Per- 
haps for  him,  seeing  his  life  had  been  so  short, 
the  gentle  Jesus  of  the  hymn  might  see  to  it 
that  it  was  not  so  dark  as  to  be  frightening  . . . 


When  Tony  Bevan  got  back  from  the  hos- 
pital that  afternoon  Miss  Foster  was  waiting 
for  him  in  the  hall.  She  wore  a  long  travelling- 
cloak  and  a  most  imposing  hat,  and  she  ap- 
peared very  much  upset.  Tony's  sad,  worn 
face  did  nothing  to  reassure  her. 

"He  is  just  slipping  away,"  he  said  sadly,  as 
he  followed  her  into  the  drawing-room.  "There 
seems  no  real  reason  why  he  should  die,  but  he 
seems  to  have  no  stamina,  and  they  give  very 
little  hope.  Everything  has  been  done.  The 
nurses  are  most  devoted,  the  doctors  have 
tried  everything.  The  next  few  hours  will  de- 
cide it." 

233 


Master  and  Maid 

"You  will  have  to  manage  without  me  for  a 
day  or  two,"  Miss  Foster  said  abruptly;  "I'm 
going  to  that  boy.  It's  just  providential  that 
Miss  Clonmell  is  out  of  the  house.  I've  put  on 
a  cotton  dress,  which  can  be  burnt  before  I 
leave  the  hospital,  so  can  everything  I  wear  in 
his  room,  but  I'm  going.  My  cab  will  be  here 
directly.  I  could  never  forgive  myself  or  rest 
easy  another  hour  if  I  don't  go  and  see  after 
that  boy  myself.  I  have  no  faith  in  trained 
nurses,  nor  much  in  doctors  for  the  matter  of 
that.  I  believe  they  carry  about  all  sort  of 
horrid  microbes  in  their  clothes.  They  never 
change  or  disinfect  or  anything.  I've  no  doubt 
Tarrant  rubbed  up  against  some  doctor  when 
he  was  watching  football  and  caught  it  from 
him.  I  wish  all  those  doctors  were  forbidden 
the  field;  that  I  do." 

Miss  Foster  spoke  very  crossly,  but  there 
was  something  underlying  her  irascible  man- 
ner suspiciously  like  tears,  and  Tony  held  out 
his  hand  to  her,  saying  in  an  almost  inaudi- 
ble mumble: 

"It's  very  good  of  you.  It's  particularly 
hard  for  us — the  little  chap's  first  term,  and 
234 


Master  and  Maid 

his  people  so  far  away.    It  will  be  an  inex- 
pressible comfort  to  me  to  think  that  some  kind 

woman " 

Tony's  voice  gave  out,  and  he  turned  away 
just  as  Ford  came  in  to  announce  that  Miss 
Foster's  cab  was  at  the  door. 

Tarrant  dozed  and  dreamed  and  then  came 
back  to  realities  with  a  start;  and  the  queer 
light  feeling  of  being  suspended  in  space  be- 
came so  acute  that  he  plucked  at  the  sheet  to 
assure  himself  that  there  was  a  bed  and  that 
he  was  lying  in  it. 

A  very  firm  hand  closed  over  his;  a  smooth 
hand  and  soft,  but  yet  with  a  purposeful  qual- 
ity about  it  that  seemed  to  send  a  little  intangi- 
ble current  of  some  kind  through  his  arm  right 
to  his  very  brain,  so  that  he  was  seized  by  a 
quite  definite  curiosity  as  to  the  personality 
belonging  to  the  hand. 

Lazily  he  opened  his  tired  eyes  and  looked 
along  the  sheet  at  the  hand  covering  his  own. 

It  was  white,  with  particularly  well-tended 
nails:  surely,  too,  the  rings  were  familiar.  He 
was  certain  he  had  seen  those  rings  before,  and 
235 


Master  and  Maid 

had  noticed  them  in  the  sub-conscious  way  one 
does  observe  such  things. 

It  seemed  far  too  great  an  effort  to  raise  his 
eyes  so  that  he  could  take  in  the  entire  figure 
that  sat  beside  his  bed,  so  he  contented  him- 
self with  looking  along  the  sleeve  that  belonged 
to  the  hand — a  grey  linen  sleeve,  and  the 
nurses  wore  pale  blue.  Who  could  this  be? 
With  a  mighty  effort  Tarrant  lifted  his  eyes 
and  at  the  same  moment  gasped  out  "Germs!" 

It  was  a  very  faint  little  gasp,  and  Miss  Fos- 
ter, being  unaware  of  her  nickname  among  the 
boys,  thought  he  said  something  about  "terms," 
and  concluded  that  he  was  worrying  about  his 
work,  which  was  indeed  the  very  last  thing  that 
Tarrant  was  ever  concerned  about. 

She  was  about  to  take  her  hand  away,  when 
the  hot  little  hand  within  it  clutched  at  it 
feverishly. 

"It's  all  right,  my  dear  boy,  I'm  not  going 
away,"  she  said  gently. 

Tarrant  opened  his  eyes  wider.    If  Germs 

was  here   he   certainly   couldn't   have   fever, 

couldn't  be  infectious.    No  one  was  so  afraid 

of  infection  as  old  Germs — it  was  a  mania 

236 


Master  and  Maid 

with  her.  Could  the  doctors  and  everybody 
have  been  mistaken?  Perhaps  he  had  only  a 
common  throat  after  all.  But  it  was  nasty  to 
feel  so  queer  and  light.  Yes;  Germs  was  still 
holding  his  hand.  Back  again  came  that 
beastly  old  sentence  about  the  nature  of  Fred- 
erick William;  he  was  in  French  form,  and  the 
master  said  sharply,  "Next  word,  Tarrant," 
and  he  awoke  with  a  start,  staring  with  large 
frightened  eyes  at  Miss  Foster,  who  said: 

"Can  you  hear  me,  dear  boy?" 

He  made  a  little  inarticulate  sound. 

"You  must  rouse  yourself,"  said  Miss  Fos- 
ter. "You  mustn't  give  in.  You  keep  a  firm 
hold  of  me,  and  never  mind  French  exercises 
or  anything  else.  You've  been  dreaming  about 
a  French  lesson.  Now  I  forbid  you  to  dream 
about  anything  of  the  kind.  You're  to  dream 
about  being  strong  and  well,  if  you  dream  at 
all.  But  you'd  much  better  just  sleep  and  get 
rested." 

Miss  Foster  spoke  with  immense  decision, 
and  sat  there  looking  so  portly,  and  solid,  and 
rational  that  Tarrant  began  to  wonder  if  he 
had  dreamt  of  the  Principal's  visit. 
237 


Master  and  Maid 

"Was  I  prayed  for  in  chapel?"  he  whispered. 

"Of  course  you  were,"  Miss  Foster  answered 
briskly;  "that's  why  you  are  going  to  get  well. 
Don't  you  think  about  yourself  at  all,  leave 
that  to  us." 

"Haven't  I  got  fever?"  Tarrant  persisted  in 
his  faint  husky  whisper. 

"Of  course  you  have.  But  that's  no  reason 
to  give  in.  Lots  of  boys  have  had  scarlet  fever 
and  are  running  about  now,  not  a  jot  the  worse 
for  it.  But  I'm  not  going  to  allow  you  to  talk." 

"But  why,"  gasped  Tarrant,  "are  you  here?" 

"Because  I  choose,"  Miss  Foster  replied; 
"and  that's  every  single  question  I'm  going  to 
answer.  Be  quiet,  like  a  good  boy,  and  think 
— if  you  think  at  all,  but  you'd  really  better 
not — what  you'd  like  to  do  when  you're  al- 
lowed to  sit  up." 

"Aren't  you  afraid  you'll  catch  it?"  he  in- 
sisted. 

"Good  gracious,  no!  What  does  the  boy 
take  me  for?  I'm  terrified  of  infection  for  the 
HOUSE — but  not  for  myself.  Dear,  dear,  to 
think  you  could  imagine  that!  Now,  not  an- 
other word." 

238 


Master  and  Maid 

There  was  a'  sturdy  conclusiveness  about 
Miss  Foster  that  was  very  reassuring.  It  was 
impossible  to  reflect  upon  wreaths  and  funeral 
services  in  College  chapel  while  she  sat  there 
looking  so  robust,  and  capable,  and  deter- 
mined. It  is  probable  that  no  one  else  could 
have  had  quite  the  same  effect  upon  Tarrant. 

It  really  seemed  as  though  the  grip  of  her 
firm,  capable  hand  literally  held  his  frail  little 
barque  of  life  to  the  shore,  in  spite  of  the  strong 
backward  tide  that  was  drawing  it  out  to  sea. 

He  submitted  to  this  new  view  of  his  case. 
He  was  too  weak  to  argue  with  any  one.  If 
Germs  said  he  was  going  to  get  well  he  sup- 
posed he  must  be.  Besides,  he  couldn't  be  so 
awfully  infectious,  else  she  wouldn't  be  there. 


At  midnight  Miss  Foster  called  Tony  up  on 
the  telephone. 

"We  think  he  is  going  to  pull  through,"  was 
the  message.  "He  needed  cheering  up,  so  it's 
just  as  well  I  came." 


239 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  Chesters  of  Pinnels  End  were  as  much 
an  institution  in  the  Fareham  neigh- 
bourhood as  the  Abbey  Church,  itself.  Hos- 
pitality was  a  religion  with  them,  and  William 
Chester  and  Olivia  his  wife  were  never  so  happy 
as  when  their  big  wandering  house  was  abso- 
lutely full.  They  had  six  grown-up  sons  scat- 
tered about  the  world  who  were  forever  send- 
ing their  friends  to  "cheer  up  the  old  people," 
so  they  were  seldom  lonely.  They  were  not 
particularly  rich,  certainly  not  smart — the  in- 
terior of  Pinnels  was  almost  conspicuously 
shabby — but  they  were  the  youngest  and 
cheeriest  old  people  imaginable,  and  their 
house  was  comfortable  as  are  few  houses. 
Those  who  had  once  enjoyed  its  entertainment 
were  fain  to  return  with  gleeful  frequency. 

For  nearly  four  hundred  years  there  had 
been  Chesters  at  Pinnels  End — large  families  of 
Chesters,  and  however  they  may  have  differed 
240 


Master  and  Maid 

as  to  politics,  religion,  or  personal  taste,  they 
were  supremely  unanimous  in  one  matter: 
they  none  of  them  could  bear  any  changes  at 
Pinnels. 

Mrs.  Chester  used  to  declare  that  until  a  car- 
pet there  actually  fell  to  pieces  and  tripped  up 
her  husband  and  sons,  she  was  never  allowed 
to  replace  it.  That  done,  it  was  months  be- 
fore they  became  resigned,  years  before  they 
consented  to  regard  it  with  any  but  the  most 
grudging  toleration,  and  even  then  it  was  com- 
pared unfavourably  with  its  predecessors. 

The  party  to  be  assembled  at  Pinnels  con- 
sisted of  three  of  the  sons — two  on  leave  from 
India  and  Egypt  respectively;  the  third  an 
Oxford  man  who  had  just  taken  his  degree  and 
was  marking  time  at  home  while  his  father 
sought  out  an  agent  with  whom  to  place  him  to 
learn  estate  management — Lallie,  Sidney  Bal- 
linger,  who  was  asked  because  he  was  a  neigh- 
bour, and  because  kind  Mrs.  Chester  knew  that 
he  would  rather  be  in  the  same  house  with 
Lallie  Clonmell  than  anywhere  else  on  earth. 
There  was  Celia  Jones,  the  usual  "nice  girl"  of 
house  parties,  who  possessed  no  striking  char- 
241 


Master  and  Maid 

acteristics  whatsoever;  and  the  remaining  guest 
was  a  Mrs.  Atwood,  the  wife  of  a  busy  doctor 
in  Carlisle. 

Her  host  would  have  found  it  rather  difficult 
to  explain  Mrs.  Atwood's  presence.  He  met 
her  while  he  and  his  wife  were  spending  a  few 
days  in  a  house  of  a  mutual  friend  about  a 
fortnight  before;  and  somehow,  although  he 
could  never  remember  exactly  how  it  came 
about,  Mrs.  Atwood  had  extracted  an  invita- 
tion from  him  for  this  particular  week-end. 

"Did  you  take  such  a  fancy  to  her,  father?" 
Mrs.  Chester  asked,  when  informed  of  the  lady's 
projected  visit.  "I  didn't  care  much  for  her 
myself,  and  I  shouldn't  have  thought  she  was 
your  sort  either." 

"I  can't  say  I  was  greatly  attracted,  though 
there's  something  rather  pleasing  and  pathetic 
about  her,  and  she  wanted  so  badly  to  fill  in 
those  four  days  between  two  visits.  It's  such 
a  deuce  of  a  way  back  to  Carlisle — and  she 
'  longed '  so  to  see  Fareham — historic  old  town, 
you  know — and  consulted  me  about  hotels 
there,  and  so  on.  You've  often  done  the  same 
thing  yourself;  you  know  you  have." 
242 


Master  and  Maid 

"Oh,  I  shall  be  most  pleased  to  see  her  and, 
of  course  I've  told  her  so.  Only — I  wonder 
how  she'll  fit  in  with  the  others." 

" She '11  fit  in  right  enough;    the  more  the 


merrier." 


"I  can't  imagine  Mrs.  At  wood  merry  under 
any  circumstances." 

"All  the  more  reason  to  try  and  cheer  her 
up,"  Mr.  Chester  remarked  optimistically,  and 
the  subject  dropped. 

Eileen  Atwood  was  thirty-six  years  old,  and 
looked  at  least  five  years  younger.  She  was  tall, 
slender,  and  fair,  with  a  graceful,  well-set  head, 
large  heavy-lidded  and  generally  downcast 
blue  eyes,  a  small  close  mouth,  and  a  chin  that 
would  have  been  markedly  receding  had  she 
not  so  persistently  drooped  her  head  forward. 
It  is  only  people  with  firm  chins  who  can  afford 
to  carry  their  heads  in  the  air.  She  spoke  very 
low,  and  was  fond  of  discussing  what  she  was 
pleased  to  call  "psychic  things."  She  herself 
would  have  said  that  she  "bore  an  aura  of  un- 
happiness";  and  the  world  in  general  con- 
cluded that  Dr.  Atwood  was  not  simpatico. 
She  had  no  children  nor,  apparently,  many 
243 


Master  and  Maid 

domestic  claims,  for  she  spent  a  large  portion  of 
her  time  in  paying  visits.  Simple  people  con- 
sidered her  intellectual  because  she  used  such 
long  and  unusual  words.  Others  of  proved 
ability,  such  as  her  husband,  had  a  different 
opinion. 

Lallie  arrived  at  Pinnels  before  luncheon. 
She  left  B.  House  by  the  first  available  train  in 
the  morning — partly  because  she  knew  Tony 
and  Miss  Foster  to  be  very  anxious  about  Tar- 
rant,  who  was  to  be  moved  to  the  hospital  that 
morning,  and  she  thought  they  would  be  glad 
to  have  her  out  of  the  way;  and  partly  be- 
cause she  was  quite  certain  that  Sidney  Bal- 
linger  would  not  travel  by  such  an  early  train, 
and  she  did  not  desire  him  as  an  escort.  When 
they  rode  to  the  meet  together  he  had  implored 
her  to  give  him  an  idea  of  what  time  next  day 
she  would  travel  to  Fareham,  but  she  persisted 
that  her  plans  were  too  uncertain  to  admit  of 
any  information  on  this  point.  Therefore  did 
he  choose  a  train  that  would  get  him  to  Fare- 
ham  in  time  for  tea  at  Pinnels  End,  rightly 
thinking  that  this  was  the  usual  and  agreeable 
244 


Master  and  Maid 

time  to  arrive.  He  nearly  lost  his  train  through 
procrastination  in  the  matter  of  taking  his  seat, 
having  walked  the  whole  length  of  the  train 
several  times  peering  into  every  carriage  in  a 
vain  search  for  Lallie;  and  he  endured  a  miser- 
able journey,  assailed  by  dismal  doubts  and 
fears  lest  Lallie  had  changed  her  mind  and  de- 
cided not  to  go  at  all. 

It  was  therefore  a  great  relief  when  he  was 
ushered  into  the  dark  old  hall  at  Pinnels  to 
hear  Lallie 's  voice  raised  in  song  in  the  duet 
"Thou  the  stream  and  I  the  river,"  which  she 
and  Billy  Chester,  the  would-be  land  agent, 
were  performing  with  great  enthusiasm. 

The  drawing-room  was  almost  as  dark  as  the 
hall,  for  the  lamps  had  not  yet  been  brought 
in,  and  the  only  lights  were  from  two  candles 
upon  the  piano  and  the  big  fire  of  logs  on  the 
hearth.  For  years  the  present  owner  of  Pinnels 
had  been  considering  the  installation  of  an  elec- 
tric-light plant,  but  he  had  never  been  able  to 
bring  himself  to  such  an  innovation.  "It  would 
pull  the  old  place  about,"  he  observed  apolo- 
getically, "and,  after  all,  lamps  are  very  handy, 
you  can  put  'em  wherever  you  want  'em." 
245 


Master  and  Maid 

Ballinger  waited  at  the  open  door  till  the 
duet  had  come  to  a  triumphant  and  crescen- 
doed  conclusion,  and  then  preceded  the  foot- 
man bearing  tea. 

He  was  the  last  to  arrive,  and  the  various 
greetings  over  Mrs.  Chester  led  him  over  to  the 
fireplace,  remarking: 

"I  think  you  know  everybody  here  except 
Mrs.  Atwood." 

That  lady,  seated  in  a  particularly  dark  cor- 
ner, leant  forward,  saying  in  her  usual  soft 
tones: 

"Mr.  Ballinger  and  I  have  met  before;  in 
fact,  we  are  quite  old  friends." 

"Why  did  you  never  tell  me?"  asked  Mrs. 
Chester,  and  left  them. 

Mrs.  Atwood  was  in  the  shadow,  but  Bal- 
linger was  standing  in  the  circle  of  red  light 
thrown  by  the  fire,  and  that  may  have  been 
the  cause  of  his  crimson  face  as  he  bent  over 
the  lady's  hand. 

Lallie,  standing  back  in  the  room  beside  the 

piano,  noticed  that  he  gave  a  very  perceptible 

start  at  the  sound  of  Mrs.  Atwood's  voice,  and 

that  his  flushed  face  betrayed  no  pleasure  at 

246 


Master  and  Maid 

the  meeting,  for  he  shook  hands  with  the  lady 
in  somewhat  perfunctory  fashion  and  immedi- 
ately moved  back  to  a  chair  near  Mrs.  Chester, 
who  was  making  tea  on  the  other  side  of  the 
hearth. 

When  the  lamps  were  brought  in  Mrs.  At- 
wood,  who  wore  a  most  becoming  tea-gown, 
came  forth  from  her  corner  and  went  and  sat 
down  near  Lallie,  who  shared  a  deep  window- 
seat  with  Billy  Chester  and  was  squabbling 
with  him  for  the  last  toasted  scone. 

"You  are  a  very  wonderful  person,  Miss 
Clonmell,"  she  said  solemnly. 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  Lallie  replied  politely. 
"I've  long  been  of  that  opinion  myself,  but 
hitherto  I  haven't  been  able  to  get  people  to 
share  it." 

"Of  course  they  won't  share  with  you  if 
you're  so  greedy  about  keeping  things  to  your- 
self— what  about  that  last  scone?"  Billy  ex- 
claimed reproachfully. 

Mrs.  Atwood  ignored  Billy. 

"I  suppose  you  have  studied  singing  seri- 
ously?" she  continued. 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  not  very  serious  about  any- 
247 


Master  and  Maid 

thing.  But  I  love  music,  if  that's  what  you 
mean." 

"I  mean  a  great  deal  more  than  that.  You 
are  possessed  by  it.  The  true  artist  always  is. 
Don't  you  feel  every  time  you  sing  that  you  are 
expressing  in  the  fullest  and  most  perfect  form 
the  essential  you?  That  your  entity  is  com- 
pleted— rounded  off  as  it  were;  that  your  very 
soul  becomes  tangible  in  song?" 

Billy  softly  and  silently  vanished  from  Lai- 
lie's  side;  and  she,  wishing  with  all  her  heart 
that  Mrs.  Atwood  would  go  and  talk  to  some 
one  else,  said  humbly: 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  feel  nearly  all  that.  I'm 
a  very  prosaic  person  really,  and  sometimes 
the  inane  words  one  has  to  sing — well,  they  get 
between  me  and  the  music  and  spoil  it;  though 
that,  too,  is  inane  enough  sometimes." 

Mrs.  Atwood  leant  back  in  her  chair  and 
smiled  indulgently  at  Lallie. 

"Oh,  how  I  envy  you,"  she  exclaimed; 
"but  at  the  same  time  I  am  quite  sure  that  we 
agree  in  diathesis:  that  although  we  may  ar- 
rive at  our  conclusions  by  different  methods, 
they  are  practically  identical.  I  cannot  con- 
248 


Master  and  Maid 

ceive  that  you  can  possess  such  a  power  of 
self-revelation  without  the  artistic  tempera- 
ment, any  more  than  I  can  allow  that  I,  lack- 
ing means  of  self-expression,  must  necessarily 
lack  temperament.  I  feel  that  we  shall  have 
much  in  common." 

Lallie  looked  as  though  she  feared  this  con- 
fidence on  Mrs.  Atwood's  part  was  somewhat 
misplaced  and  said  gravely: 

"I  should  never  say  that  you  lacked  means 
of  self-expression.  You  seem  to  me  to  have 
an  unusually  large  vocabulary." 

Mrs.  Atwood  laughed.  "Now  you  are  mak- 
ing game  of  me,  and  I  believe  I  must  have 
frightened  Mr.  Chester  away — too  bad.  I  sup- 
pose you  know  every  one  here  very  well.  This 
is  my  first  visit,  you  know — all  strange  except 
dear  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chester,  such  kind  people! 
Who  is  that  man  sitting  so  close  by  her?" 

Lallie's  seat  was  considerably  higher  than 
Mrs.  Atwood's,  and  the  girl  looked  down  at  her 
with  a  curiously  appraising  glance. 

"I  thought  I  heard  you  say  just  before  tea 
that  he  is  an  old  friend  of  yours." 

Mrs.  Atwood  laughed  nervously. 
249 


Master  and  Maid 

"Oh,  that  one!  Mr.  Ballinger;  yes,  I  know 
him.  I  meant  the  tall  one  leaning  against  the 
chimneypiece." 

"That  is  Mr.  Arnold  Chester.  He  was  here 
at  lunch,  you  know." 

"So  he  was,  how  stupid  of  me.  This  lamp- 
light is  very  confusing." 

It  seemed  that  although  Mrs.  Atwood  spoke 
in  her  usual  subdued  tones  that  Sidney  Bal- 
linger heard  his  name,  for  he  turned  right  round 
and  saw  Lallie  sitting  in  the  deep  window- 
seat.  Her  head  was  sharply  silhouetted  against 
the  white  casement  curtain,  and  her  eyes,  star- 
sweet  and  serious,  met  his  in  mute  challenge. 
He  did  not  see  Mrs.  Atwood,  his  eager  gaze 
was  concentrated  on  the  little  figure  in  the 
window.  Hastily  setting  down  his  empty  cup 
upon  the  tray  he  crossed  the  room  and  sat 
down  in  Billy  Chester's  vacant  place,  and  not 
even  his  pince-nez  could  conceal  the  gladness 
in  his  eyes. 

"When  did  you  arrive?"  he  asked  eagerly; 
"I've  not  had  the  chance  to  speak  to  you  yet; 
you  might  have  told  me  your  train " 

Then  he  saw  Mrs.  Atwood. 
250 


Master  and  Maid 

His  face  changed  and  clouded,  and  his  sudden 
pause  was  so  marked  that  Lallie  said  hastily: 

"I  came  very  early;  Mrs.  Atwood  and  I  ar- 
rived almost  at  the  same  time  from  different 
directions.  It  was  convenient,  for  it  saved  the 
motor  going  in  iwice." 

"And  gave  us  an  opportunity  to  become  ac- 
quainted on  our  way  out,"  Mrs.  Atwood  added. 
She  leant  back  in  her  low  chair  and  with  half- 
shut  eyes  lazily  looked  at  the  two  in  the  win- 
dow. 

Lallie  longed  to  disclaim  any  sort  of  ac- 
quaintance with  Mrs.  Atwood,  Ballinger  seemed 
possessed  by  a  demon  of  glum  silence,  only  Mrs 
Atwood,  in  graceful  comfort,  easily  reclining  in 
her  deep  chair,  seemed  insensible  of  any  ten- 
sion in  the  atmosphere. 

Lallie  felt  intensely  impatient  at  Ballinger's 
sudden  and  inconvenient  taciturnity.  Every 
one  else  in  the  room  was  talking.  Why  couldn't 
he?  Why  couldn't  she?  For  the  life  of  her 
she  couldn't  think  of  a  suitable  remark  to 
make.  Mrs.  Atwood  sat  very  still,  a  serene  lit- 
tle smile  just  tinging  her  face  with  a  suspicion 
of  ironical  amusement. 

251 


Master  and  Maid 

Lallie  became  unendurably  restless.  She  felt 
that  if  she  sat  where  she  was  another  minute 
she  would  say  or  do  something  desperate.  To 
get  out  of  her  corner  she  had  to  pass  in  front 
of  her  neighbour  and  almost  squeeze  behind 
Mrs.  Atwood's  chair;  with  a  remark  to  the  ef- 
fect that  it  was  chilly  sitting  so  far  from  the 
fire,  she  achieved  the  difficult  feat  and  joined 
the  cheerful  group  round  the  tea-table. 

"Well?"  said  Mrs.  Atwood. 

Ballinger  looked  at  her  rather  helplessly. 
He  had  an  irritating  habit  when  embarrassed 
of  holding  his  hands  out  in  front  of  him  and 
feebly  dangling  them  from  the  wrists.  He  did 
this  now  as  he  remarked  obviously: 

"I  had  no  idea  you  were  here." 

Mrs.  Atwood  leaned  suddenly  toward  him. 
"Don't  talk  banalities,"  she  said  almost  fiercely. 
"Have  you  nothing  else  to  say  to  me  after  all 
these  months?" 

He  pulled  himself  together.  "Well,  really" 
— he  spoke  as  though  weighing  the  question 
carefully — "I  don't  know  that  I  have." 

"Nevertheless,  I  shall  have  something  to  say 
to  you,"  said  Mrs.  Atwood. 
252 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WHEN  Sidney  Ballinger  was  at  Trinity, 
Dr.  Atwood  had  a  practice  in  Cam- 
bridge. Mrs.  Atwood  was  by  way  of  being 
guide,  philosopher,  and  friend  to  a  good  many 
undergraduates,  and  in  Sidney  Ballinger's  case 
the  friendship  had  assumed  proportions  quite 
other  than  Platonic. 

He  was  flattered  and  grateful,  his  feeling  for 
her  being  a  subtle  compound  of  inclination, 
gratified  vanity,  and  a  sort  of  pleased  surprise 
that  he  was  such  a  devil  of  a  fellow.  For  Sid- 
ney was  not  then  of  much  importance  either  in 
the  world  at  large  or  in  that  smaller  world  of 
University  life.  He  was  good  in  the  schools 
and  of  no  use  whatever  in  the  athletic  set.  He 
did  not  speak  at  debates,  nor  act,  nor  perform 
at  any  of  the  various  Musical  Societies;  hi  fact, 
he  was  a  hard-working,  rather  simple-minded, 
inconspicuous  young  man  until  Mrs.  Atwood 
got  hold  of  him  and  taught  him  to  believe 
253 


Master  and  Maid 

himself  complex,  unusual,  and  misunderstood. 
She  could  not  spoil  his  work,  for  he  was  shrewd 
enough  in  some  ways,  but  she  did  contrive  to 
develop  a  great  deal  that  was  artificial  and 
petty  in  his  character,  whereas  her  feeling  for 
him  was  as  nearly  sincere  as  emotion  ever  is 
in  a  nature  that  continually  poses,  as  much  to 
quicken  its  own  spirit  as  to  impress  others. 

They  were  both  young  and  enthusiastic,  but 
neither  of  them  ever  contemplated  any  very 
vigorous  flight  in  the  faces  of  the  conventional. 
They  saw  each  other  constantly  during  term 
time,  and  often  read  Swinburne  together.  In 
the  vacations  they  wrote  long  letters,  and  Sid- 
ney went  about  feeling  very  superior  to  the 
common  herd  of  undergraduates  who  merely 
fell  in  love  with  people's  unmarried  sisters 
during  May  week. 

The  Atwoods  left  Cambridge  during  Sid- 
ney's fourth  year  there,  which  may  have  ac- 
counted for  his  exceedingly  good  degree.  After 
he  was  called  to  the  Bar  he  saw  very  little  of 
Mrs.  Atwood.  As  she  put  it,  "they  drifted 
apart."  She  did  occasionally  come  to  Lon- 
don, where  they  would  meet,  and  he  listened 
254 


Master  and  Maid 

sympathetically  to  her  complaints  as  to  the 
" hebetude"  of  the  inhabitants  of  Carlisle,  but 
their  letters  were  brief  and  few;  in  fact,  the 
whole  affair  would  have  died  a  natural  death 
but  for  his  sudden  and  unexpected  inheritance 
of  his  uncle's  property.  In  his  case  all  feeling 
for  Mrs.  Atwood,  except  a  mildly  reminiscent 
sort  of  affectation,  was  dead,  and  being  sin- 
cerely desirous  of  doing  his  duty  in  the  new 
station  of  life  to  which  he  had  been  called,  he 
laid  aside  many  youthful  follies  and  affections; 
in  fact,  he  set  himself  seriously  to  become  the 
ideal  landed  proprietor. 

On  Mrs.  Atwood,  Sidney's  sudden  accession 
to  a  considerable  fortune  had  quite  another 
effect.  Vistas  of  a  hitherto  undreamt-of  possi- 
bility stretched  before  her;  she  beheld  in  imag- 
ination the  world  well  lost  and  herself  and  Sid- 
ney fleeing  to  sunnier  climes  in  a  yacht  she 
would  help  him  to  choose.  She  was  a  good 
sailor.  He  was  not,  but  this  she  did  not  know. 

Everything  would  arrange  itself.  Her  "un- 
loving, unloved"  husband  would  doubtless  soon 
get  over  it  and  she —  But  it  is  fruitless  to 
pursue  Mrs.  Atwood's  reflections.  She  wrote 
255 


Master  and  Maid 

many  letters  to  Sidney.  To  some  he  replied 
with  matter-of-fact  civility,  but  he  left  a  great 
many  unanswered,  especially  of  late. 

Time  had  precisely  opposite  effects  upon 
their  respective  temperaments.  The  flame  of 
Mrs.  Atwood's  desire  for  Sidney  burned  stronger 
and  fiercer;  while  in  him  there  remained  but  a 
few  grey  ashes  upon  the  altar  of '  his  love. 
Naturally  tidy,  he  objected  even  to  these  frail 
reminders  of  the  past,  and  did  his  best  to 
sweep  them  away.  Then  he  met  Lallie  and 
fell  honestly  and  hopelessly  in  love.  Mrs.  At- 
wood's  very  existence  became  a  rather  annoy- 
ing trifle — a  pin-prick  that  only  occasionally 
smarted. 

When  Mrs.  Atwood  met  the  Chesters  she 
was  beginning  to  feel  desperate.  Her  last  three 
letters  to  Sidney  were  unanswered.  When  she 
happened  to  hear  Mrs.  Chester  say  he  was  to 
be  their  guest  so  shortly,  she  felt  that  the  hand 
of  destiny  was  outstretched  on  her  behalf. 
She  promptly  set  to  work  to  extract  an  invita- 
tion from  Mr.  Chester,  and  having  succeeded, 
felt  that  all  would  happen  as  she  had  pictured. 
She  was  convinced  that  they  only  needed  to 
256 


Master  and  Maid 

meet  once  more  when  their  relations  would  be 
as  they  had  been  in  the  past — only  more  so. 

"Take  ship,  for  happiness  is  somewhere  to 
be  had,"  she  quoted  to  herself.  She  was  sure 
that  her  happiness  lay  at  Pinnels  End,  and  em- 
barked upon  her  enterprise  with  a  high  heart. 

By  Saturday  evening,  the  night  of  the  Prim- 
rose meeting,  the  situation  was  somewhat  as 
follows:  Mrs.  Atwood,  still  striving  vainly  to 
secure  a  few  minutes  alone  with  Sidney  Bal- 
linger;  he,  moving  heaven  and  earth  to  draw 
Lallie  away  from  all  the  others,  without  suc- 
cess; Lallie,  quite  aware  of  the  tactics  of  both 
Ballinger  and  Mrs.  Atwood  and  mischievously 
delighting  in  the  checkmate  of  each  in  turn. 
She  infuriated  Mrs.  Atwood  by  her  extreme 
graciousness  to  Ballinger  in  public,  and  drove 
him  to  desperation  by  her  desire  for  Billy 
Chester's  society  whenever  he  hoped  to  get  her 
to  himself. 

Mrs.  Chester  was  furious  with  Mrs.  Atwood. 
She  invaded  her  husband's  dressing-room  just 
before  dinner  to  voice  her  indignation. 

"I  have  no  patience  with  the  woman,"  she 
exclaimed;  "she's  a  regular  spoil-sport.  Any 
257 


Master  and  Maid 

one  with  half  an  eye  or  an  ounce  of  sympathy 
can  see  how  the  land  lies  between  Lallie  and 
young  Ballinger,  and  yet  she  never  leaves  them 
alone  for  an  instant.  She  seems  to  me  to  fol- 
low them  about  on  purpose." 

"I  think  you're  a  bit  hard  on  her.  She 
must  go  about  with  some  one,  you  couldn't 
expect  her  to  stop  in  her  room;  and  after  all, 
how  can  she  divine  that  Lallie  and  Ballinger 
are  in  love?  They're  too  well-bred  to  show  it 
if  they  are,  and  you  have  only  your  supposi- 
tion to  go  on.  I  think  she  has  taken  rather  a 
fancy  to  Lallie,  like  the  rest  of  us." 

"Fancy!"  Mrs.  Chester  repeated  scornfully. 
"If  there  is  one  person  in  this  house  that  Mrs. 
Atwood  cordially  dislikes,  it's  Lallie.  Mark  my 
words,  she  means  mischief,  though  how  or  why 
I  can't  tell;  but  I  am  convinced  that  she  got  you 
to  ask  her  here  simply  that  she  might  meet  Sid- 
ney Ballinger — and  I  wish  I'd  never  seen  her." 

The  Pinnels  party  went  in  an  omnibus  to 
the  Primrose  meeting  in  Fareham.    Ballinger 
secured  a  seat  next  Lallie,  and  under  cover  of 
the  general  conversation  demanded: 
258 


Master  and  Maid 

"Why  will  you  never  give  me  a  minute 
alone?  Why  do  you  seem  to  avoid  me  so?" 

"Why,  I'm  with  you  all  day  long,  it  seems 
to  me ;  and  as  I've  nothing  to  say  to  you  that 
mightn't  be  shouted  from  the  housetops,  why 
should  solitude  be  necessary?" 

"I  have  a  great  deal  to  say  to  you  that 
couldn't  possibly  be  shouted.  Will  you  come 
for  a  walk  to-morrow  afternoon?  I'm  sure 
you  don't  sleep  all  Sunday  afternoon.  Will 
you  promise?  And  without  that  chap,  Chester, 
mind — just  you  and  me." 

"What  about  your  friend  Mrs.  At  wood? 
She  may  be  fond  of  walking." 

"Confound  her!    Will  you  promise?" 

"I  can't  promise,  but  I'll  try;  there!  Only 
you  must  be  amusing  and  agreeable." 

"I'm  only  too  afraid  of  being  amusing.  You 
generally  seem  to  find  me  that.  I  should  like 
you  to  take  me  very  seriously  indeed —  I  beg 
your  pardon,  Mrs.  Atwood,  what  did  you  say?  " 

The  Primrose  meeting  was  well  attended. 
A  noble  earl,  chief  landowner  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, made  a  speech  which  mainly  con- 
259 


Master  and  Maid 

sisted  of  "hems"  and  "ers"  interspersed  with 
platitudes  about  Empire  and  Tariff  Reform. 
The  Unionist  candidate  spoke  wittily  and  well, 
and  certain  local  magnates  said  the  things  local 
magnates  usually  do  say.  Then  came  the 
lighter  part  of  the  evening's  business — songs 
and  recitations.  Lallie  sang  her  topical  ditty 
with  immense  flair.  She  looked  so  small,  and 
slim,  and  young  in  her  really  beautiful  French 
frock,  with  pearls  in  her  hair  and  round  her 
slender  throat,  that  the  hearts  of  the  audience 
went  out  to  her  before  she  opened  her  mouth. 
But  when  she  did  begin  to  sing,  when  the  big 
rich  voice  rolled  out  the  ridiculous  words  with 
the  marvellously  clear  articulation  that  was  one 
great  charm  in  Lallie's  singing,  she  made  every 
point  with  an  archness  that  was  delicious,  that 
seemed  to  take  each  member  of  the  audience 
into  her  confidence,  while  that  confidence  im- 
plied entire  trust  in  their  general  shrewdness 
and  clear-sightedness. 

At  the  triumphant  conclusion  the  whole  house 
rose  at  her  and  demanded  an  encore  with  such 
noise  and  persistency  that  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  indulge  them. 
260 


Master  and  Maid 

The  organist  of  Fareham  Church  presided  at 
the  piano  as  accompanist,  and  they  saw  him 
seemingly  protest  or  expostulate  at  the  song 
she  gave  him,  but  Lallie  was  evidently  per- 
emptory, and  it  was  to  be  that  or  nothing. 
When  she  came  forward  to  the  front  of  the 
platform  there  was  a  sudden  silence  as,  without 
any  prelude,  very  softly,  every  note  clear  and 
poignantly  sad,  there  fell  upon  the  astonished 
ears  of  that  comfortable  English  company: 

"Oh,  Paddy,  dear,  and  did  you  hear  the  news  that's  going 
round?" 

Not  one  word  could  be  missed  or  misunder- 
stood. 

"  I  met  with  Napper  Tandy,  and  he  tuk  me  by  the  hand, 
And,  says  he, '  How's  poor  old  Ireland,  and  how  does  she 
stand?'" 

How,  indeed?  A  little  uncomfortable  doubt 
as  to  their  dealings  with  that  most  distressful 
country  assailed  even  the  most  cock-sure  poli- 
tician in  that  audience. 

"Oh,  the  wearing  of  the  green,"  sang  Lallie, 
her  heart  in  her  voice.  The  monotonous,  mel- 
261 


Master  and  Maid 

ancholy  tone,  charged  full  in  every  measured 
cadence  with  the  sorrow  of  a  people,  held  the 
good  Fareham  folk  against  their  wills. 

The  clever  Conservative  candidate  sat  for- 
ward in  his  chair  on  the  platform,  his  elbow  on 
his  knee,  his  hand  shading  his  keen  eyes  as  he 
stared  fixedly  at  the  little  figure  who  worked 
this  strange  miracle. 

It  was  over. 

Fareham  took  a  long  breath  and  ventured 
upon  subdued  applause.  For  a  moment  there 
was  a  perceptible  and  uncomfortable  pause. 
Then  Billy  Chester  leapt  to  his  feet  and  saved 
the  situation. 

"He  was  glad,"  he  said,  "that  the  lady  who 
had  just  been  delighting  them  with  her  great 
gift  of  song  had  reminded  them  of  Ireland  and 
her  wrongs.  One  thing  above  all  others  was 
needed  to  right  those  wrongs;  to  set  Ireland  in 
her  place  among  the  kingdoms  of  the  Empire; 
to  give  her  prosperity,  self-respect,  and  peace 
within  her  own  borders.  This  remedy  they 
had  in  their  hands  if  they  would  only  use  it — 
the  institution  of  a  judicious  system  of  Tariff 
Reform.  For  no  part  of  the  Empire  would  it 
262 


Master  and  Maid 

do  so  much  as  for  Ireland."  Billy  showed 
how  it  could  be  brought  about.  He  quoted 
statistics  by  the  yard,  he  made  jokes,  he  put 
Fareham  on  good  terms  with  itself  again,  and 
the  meeting  broke  up  with  a  special  vote  of 
thanks  to  Miss  Clonmell  for  her  delightful 
music. 

"Lallie,  you  horrid  little  Fenian,  what  on 
earth  possessed  you  to  sing  that  song  to-night 
of  all  nights?"  Mrs.  Chester  demanded  as 
they  drove  home. 

"It  seemed  to  me,"  Lallie  replied  grimly, 
"that  there  was  an  intolerable  deal  of  sack  to 
very  little  bread  throughout  the  proceedings. 
So  I  thought  I'd  give  them  a  little  bread — 
black  bread  and  bitter,  but  wholesome." 

"But  for  Billy  it  might  have  been  very  awk- 
ward indeed,"  Mrs.  Chester  continued. 

"Perhaps,"  Mrs.  Atwood  suggested,  "that 
natural  instinct  of  the  artist  to  make  a  sensa- 
tion at  all  costs  was  too  strong  for  Miss  Clon- 
mell. She  certainly  attained  her  object.  The 
faces  of  the  people  were  an  interesting  study." 

No  one  spoke  for  a  moment,  but  Mrs.  Chester, 
who  was  sitting  next  Lallie,  suddenly  felt  for 
263 


Master  and  Maid 

the  girl's  hand  under  the  rug  and  gave  it  an 
affectionate  squeeze. 

"You're  a  sad  pickle,"  she  whispered,  "you 
always  were." 

"I  must  speak  up  for  my  country  when  I 
get  the  chance,"  Lallie  said  aloud.  "It  isn't 
often  I  find  myself  upon  a  political  platform, 
but  I  really  believe  I  could  sway  the  multitude 
better  than  most  of  them.  If  only  I'd  danced 
an  Irish  jig,  I  believe  I  could  have  got  the 
whole  of  them  to  vote  for  Home  Rule." 


264 


CHAPTER  XX 

ON  Sunday  morning  Lallie  got  a  letter  from 
Tony  telling  her  how  ill  Tarrant  was. 
She  read  the  letter  over  and  over  again,  feeling 
restless  and  unhappy.  She  wanted  Tony.  She 
would  have  liked  to  go  back  to  B.  House  that 
minute,  to  comfort  him. 

"When  I  was  at  B.  House  I  was  homesick 
for  Bridget,  and  now  I'm  here  I'm  homesick 
for  Tony.  Shall  I  always  be  homesick,  I  won- 
der?" Lallie  pondered. 

She  felt  curiously  nervous  and  ill  at  ease. 
Sidney  Ballinger's  inevitable  proposal  was  hang- 
ing over  her,  and  she  was  no  nearer  any  deci- 
sion as  to  her  own  answer.  It  was  all  very 
well  "to  be  nice"  to  him  just  to  annoy  Mrs. 
Atwood,  as  it  plainly  did;  but  quite  another 
matter  to  make  up  her  mind  "to  be  nice  to  him 
for  ever  and  ever,"  as  she  considered  would  be 
her  duty  if  she  accepted  him.  She  wished  she 
could  talk  it  over  with  Tony  once  more. 
265 


Master  and  Maid 

Mrs.  Chester  insisted  that  her  husband  should 
take  Mrs.  Atwood  to  service  at  Fareham  church 
while  the  rest  of  the  party  went  with  her  to 
the  church  in  the  village. 

Mrs.  Atwood  protested  against  the  motor 
being  had  out  on  her  account,  but  her  hostess 
was  firm;  and  as  she  had,  when  they  first  met, 
expressed  such  an  ardent  desire  to  behold  that 
ancient  building,  she  could  hardly  now  declare 
that  she  no  longer  felt  any  inclination  to  gaze 
upon  its  beauties. 

"  Won't  you  come  too,  Miss  Clonmell?"  she 
asked,  as  arrangements  were  being  made  in  the 
hall  after  breakfast. 

"Lallie  is  coming  with  me,"  Mrs.  Chester 
said  firmly,  without  giving  her  guest  a  chance 
to  reply.  "  Every  one  is  coming  with  me  ex- 
cept you  and  my  husband.  Then  the  vicar 
won't  miss  him  so  much." 

All  through  the  service  Lallie  thought  of  Col- 
lege chapel  and  longed  to  be  there.  From  her 
seat  in  the  gallery  she  could  see  Tony,  and  she 
liked  to  look  down  at  him  and  admire  his  de- 
corous demeanour.  She  always  regarded  his 
schoolmastering  as  something  quite  apart  from 
266 


Master  and  Maid 

himself,  and  now,  although  she  had  been  living 
in  B.  House  for  nearly  six  weeks,  she  still 
thought  that  when  he  was  what  she  called 
"stiff"  it  was  only  a  manner  adopted  for  the 
benefit  of  the  boys. 

Her  Tony  Bevan  was  the  Tony  of  the  holi- 
days, in  shabby  Norfolk  jacket  and  old  fishing- 
hat.  She  never  quite  got  over  her  first  amuse- 
ment at  his  sober  Sunday  garb  and  college 
gown.  But  even  in  this  she  liked  him.  She 
liked  him  amazingly.  Her  eyes  were  very  soft 
and  kind  as  she  pictured  Tony,  stalwart  and 
grave,  leaning  back  in  his  college  stall.  And 
Ballinger,  watching  her,  wondered  what  would 
be  her  thoughts,  and  hoped  they  might  be  of 
him. 

They  all  walked  back  from  church  together 
meeting  the  motor  as  it  turned  into  the  drive. 
Mrs.  Atwood  and  Mr.  Chester  got  out  and  the 
whole  party  went  round  the  gardens  before 
lunch. 

"Remember,  we  meet  in  the  drawing-room  at 

three — no  one's  ever  there  on  Sunday  afternoon; 

you  promised  me  a  walk,  you  know — don't 

forget,"  Ballinger  contrived  to  say  to  Lallie  as 

267 


Master  and  Maid 

they  neared  the  house.  She  nodded  without 
speaking,  and  Mrs.  Atwood  who  was  close  be- 
hind them — she  generally  was — heard  his  re- 
minder and  noted  Lallie's  silent  acquiescence. 

Her  face  was  very  sombre  as  she  slowly  went 
upstairs  to  take  off  her  hat. 

She  was  leaving  next  day,  and  she  was  no 
nearer  any  explanation  with  Sidney  Ballinger 
than  before  she  came.  They  had  assuredly 
met  once  more,  but  even  her  vanity  hardly 
helped  her  to  believe  that  the  meeting  had,  for 
him,  been  fraught  with  any  pleasure. 

Like  Miss  Foster,  she  considered  Lallie  "a 
designing  girl,"  and  blamed  her  for  Sidney's 
coldness. 

"If  I  could  only  see  him  alone,"  was  the 
thought  that  repeated  itself  over  and  over 
again  in  her  head;  and  the  reflection  that  it 
was  Lallie — and  not  she — who  would  see  him 
alone  that  very  afternoon  became  unbearable. 
Something  must  be  done. 

In  winter  at  Pinnels,  bedroom  fires  are  lit 
before  lunch  on  Sundays,  and  ladies  retire  to 
their  rooms  immediately  after,  nominally  to 
268 


Master  and  Maid 

write  letters.  Most  people  sleep,  but  that  after- 
noon Lallie  felt  unusually  wide-awake.  She 
drew  up  a  chair  to  the  fire,  intending  to  read 
till  it  should  be  time  for  her  walk  with  Ballinger, 
but  the  printed  page  conveyed  nothing  to  her 
mind.  She  was  in  that  state  of  acute  nervous 
tension  when  definite  occupation  of  any  kind 
seems  impossible,  and  every  smallest  sound  is 
magnified  tenfold. 

"I'll  get  it  over,"  said  Lallie  to  herself. 
"Nothing  will  induce  me  to  marry  him,  but 
I'll  get  it  over." 

Presently  there  came  a  very  soft  rap  upon 
her  door.  Mrs.  Atwood  followed  the  knock 
and,  shutting  the  door  behind  her,  came  over 
to  Lallie. 

"May  I  sit  down?"  she  said.  "I  very 
much  want  to  have  a  few  minutes'  conver- 
sation with  you,  and  this  seemed  the  best 
opportunity." 

She  was  pale,  and  there  was  an  atmosphere 
about  her  of  suppressed  storm.  Lallie  hoisted 
a  mental  umbrella  while  she  politely  begged 
her  guest  to  be  seated,  and  awaited  develop- 
ments. 

269 


Master  and  Maid 

"You  have,  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Atwood, 
"known  Mr.  Ballinger  for  about  a  year?" 

"Just  about,"  said  Lallie. 

"I  have  known  him  for  nearly  seven." 

"Really,"  Lallie  remarked. 

"Miss  Clonmell,  you  are  young,  and  I  feel 
that  it  is  only  fair  to  you  that  you  should  know 
— what  he  and  I  have  been  to  one  another." 

"Please,  I  have  no  desire  to  know  anything 
of  the  kind.  It  is  no  business  of  mine.  I 
would  rather  not — much  rather  not — hear  any 
more.  Please,  please  stop  before  you  say 
things  you  will  wish  unsaid  half  an  hour  after- 
wards— please." 

"You've  got  to  listen  to  me  whether  you 
like  it  or  not,"  Mrs.  Atwood  exclaimed  pas- 
sionately. "You  think  he  is  in  love  with  you. 
I  know  him;  it  is  merely  a  passing  glamour. 
Your  youth,  your  music — your — oh,  what  shall 
I  call  it — have  carried  him  off  his  feet,  but  it 
will  pass;  his  heart,  what  there  is  of  it,  be- 
longs to  me." 

"But  you're  married,  Mrs.  Atwood,  so  what 
would  you  be  doing  with  his  heart?  even  if  it 
is  as  you  say." 

270 


Master  and  Maid 

"Married!"  Mrs.  Atwood  repeated  bitterly 
— "married!  so  I  was  when  he  first  knew  me, 
but  that  didn't  prevent  his  falling  in  love  with 
me." 

"I  fear,"  said  Lallie  gravely,  "that  he  is  a 
very  unfortunate  young  man,  and  if  he  has 
done  his  best  to  cure  himself  of  such  a  hopeless 
attachment  it's  not  you  who  should  stand  in 
the  way  of  his  doing  so." 

"Confront  me  with  him,"  Mrs.  Atwood  cried 
furiously;  "ask  him  whether  what  I  say  is  true 
or  not,  and  you'll  soon  see." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Atwood,  I  shouldn't  dream 
of  doing  such  a  thing.  It  is  an  unpleasant 
affair  altogether,  and  the  sooner  it's  buried  in 
oblivion  the  better  for  all  concerned." 

"But,  girl,  I  love  him!  Can't  you  under- 
stand? I  love  him!" 

"I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Lallie. 

"But  what  are  you  going  to  do?"  cried  Mrs. 
Atwood,  her  voice  vibrant  and  shrill  with  irri- 
tation. "The  matter  can't  rest  here.  What 
are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Nothing  whatever.  I  never  let  it  affect  me 
when  people  tell  me  tales  about  others.  I 
271 


Master  and  Maid 

wasn't  intended  to  know  this.    If  Mr.  Ballinger 
wants  me  to  know  it,  he'll  tell  me  himself." 

"You  mean  that  what  I  have  told  you  won't 
affect  your  feelings  towards  him  in  any  way?" 

"Mrs.  Atwood,  I  am  really  very  sorry  for 
you,  but  I  can't  see  that  Sidney  Ballinger  is 
called  upon  to  go  single  all  his  life  just  because 
he  was  in  love  with  you  once  and  has  got  over 
it.  He  can't  marry  you  if  you've  got  a  hus- 
band already,  and  it's  much  better  he  shouldn't 
go  hanging  round  you  any  more — better  for 
both  of  you.  Don't  you  see  that  it  is?" 

"You  don't  understand,"  wailed  Mrs.  At- 
wood. "You  take  the  common,  narrow,  early 
Victorian  view  of  the  whole  situation.  Does 
he  owe  me  nothing  for  the  years  I  have  loved 
him?" 

"If  I  had  loved  a  man  for  years,"  said  Lai- 
lie  softly,  "I  don't  think  I  should  talk  about 
his  debt  to  me." 

"You  don't  know  what  you  would  do.  If 
you  were  a  woman,  instead  of  a  child  incapable 
of  understanding  any  great  passion,  you  would 
know.  Will  you  give  him  back  to  me,  I  ask 
you?  Will  you  give  him  back  to  me?" 
272 


Master  and  Maid 

"Nothing  can  do  that  except  his  own  will." 

"But  will  you  stand  out  of  the  way,  refuse 
him,  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him? 
Promise  me." 

A  moment  before,  Lallie  had  looked  fright- 
ened, and  Mrs.  Atwood  thought  she  could  be 
bullied.  She  stood  over  the  girl,  menace  in  her 
eyes  and  hatred  in  her  heart.  She  caught  Lal- 
lie by  the  shoulder  and  shook  her.  She  made 
a  great  mistake. 

A  moment  before  Lallie  had  been  very 
sorry  for  her,  though  she  despised  her 
and  thought  her  shameless.  But  now — she 
shook  off  Mrs.  Atwood's  hand  and  she,  too, 
stood  up. 

"I  will  promise  nothing,"  she  said  haughtily. 
"You  have  no  possible  right  to  ask  it." 

The  two  women  stood  looking  at  each  other. 
Mrs.  Atwood  breathless,  panting,  almost  be- 
side herself  with  excitement;  Lallie  quiet  and 
dignified. 

The  clock  struck  three. 

"I  think  we  have  said  all  there  is  to  say  on 
this  subject,"  Lallie  said   coldly.    "I  really 
would  rather  not  hear  any  more." 
273 


Master  and  Maid 

She  crossed  the  room  and  held  the  door  open, 
and  in  silence  Mrs.  Atwood  passed  through  it. 

Lallie  seized  her  coat  and  hat,  fiercely  stabbed 
in  her  big  pins  and  ran  down  stairs  to  the 
drawing-room,  where  she  knew  Sidney  Bal- 
linger  would  be  waiting. 

So  he  was,  and  Mrs.  Atwood  was  with  him. 
The  tears  were  running  down  her  cheeks.  He 
was  white  and  evidently  very  angry.  His 
mouth,  usually  so  weak  and  amiable,  had  taken 
on  a  cruel  look — the  sort  of  snarl  that  curls  the 
lips  back  from  the  teeth  as  in  an  angry  animal. 

Lallie  stopped  short  and  looked  from  one  to 
the  other. 

"I  have  told  her,  Sidney,"  sobbed  Mrs.  At- 
wood. "I  thought  it  only  right  that  she  should 
know  all  we  had  been  to  one  another — how 
greatly  we  loved,  how " 

He  turned  upon  her  furiously. 

"I  never  loved  you.  From  its  first  incep- 
tion the  whole  thing  was  false  and  pretentious, 
as  you  are  yourself.  I  was  only  a  boy  when 
you  got  hold  of  me.  I  never  really  cared  for 
you." 

Lallie  moved  a  little  nearer  Mrs.  Atwood. 
274 


Master  and  Maid 

" Believe  me,  Lallie,"  he  went  on,  "I  never 
cared  for  her,  and  now  she  won't  leave  me 
alone.  I  care  more  for  your  very  shoe-lace " 

"Stop!"  It  was  Lallie  who  spoke.  "How 
dare  you  speak  to  her  like  that?  Oh,  you " 

Mrs.  Atwood  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  fled  from  the  room. 

"Listen  to  me,  Lallie!  Don't  let  her  come 
between  us." 

He  spoke  in  sobbing  gasps  and  caught  at 
one  of  Lallie's  hands.  She  drew  it  away. 

11  She  has  not  come  between  us,"  she  said 
scornfully;  "it  is  yourself.  You  might  have 
told  me  that  it  had  all  been  the  worst  thing 
possible,  and  I  could  have  forgiven  you.  Who 
am  I  to  judge  a  man?  But  not  this.  You 
went  back  on  her.  You  put  her  to  open  shame 
before  me.  You  are  a  coward,  Mr.  Ballinger." 

"Lallie,  think  of  the  provocation!  What 
right  had  she  to  come  thrusting  in  with 
her  grievances — wholly  imaginary  grievances — 
upon  the  most  beautiful  and  sacred  thing  in 
my  whole  life.  Let  us  come  out  and  forget 
her.  You  will  come,  won't  you?  You  won't 
let  her  spoil  everything?" 
275 


Master  and  Maid 

"I  told  you  before,  Mrs.  Atwood  had  no 
power  to  spoil  anything.  I  wasn't  even  sorry 
for  her  when  she  told  me;  but  you —  No, 
Mr.  Ballinger,  I  could  never  trust  you.  You 
went  back  on  her." 

And  Lallie  turned  and  left  him  standing  in 
the  middle  of  the  Pinnels  drawing-room,  think- 
ing bitter  thoughts. 

Who  could  have  dreamt  she  would  have 
taken  such  a  curious  line?  That  she  should  be 
shocked,  distressed,  indignant,  was  to  be  ex- 
pected— it  was  what  he  dreaded.  But  she  was 
none  of  these  things.  The  affair  with  Mrs. 
Atwood  seemed  to  pass  her  by.  She  blamed 
him  because  he  didn't  own  up,  because  he  was 
cruel  to  Eileen  Atwood  when  he  denied  that  he 
had  ever  cared  for  her.  He  had  cared,  as 
much  as  it  was  in  him  to  care  at  all — then. 
Now,  he  was  absolutely  truthful  when  he  had 
said  that  Lallie's  shoe-string  was  more  to  him 
than  Eileen  Atwood's  whole  body.  But  it  had 
not  pleased  Lallie.  Women  were  incomprehen- 
sible. He  knew  that  Lallie  did  not  love  him, 
but  he  had  believed  that  he  could  make  her 
love  him  in  time.  She  was  so  affectionate, 
276 


Master  and  Maid 

so  passionately  grateful  for  kindness:  surely, 
surely  she  must  respond  some  day  if  only  he 
got  his  chance. 

Had  this  horrible  woman  ruined  it  entirely? 
He  felt  that  he  could  gladly  have  strangled 
Mrs.  Atwood  with  his  own  hands:  yet  his 
knees  bent  under  him  and  his  pulses  were 
thundering  in  his  ears.  He  went  into  the  de- 
serted dining-room  and  mixed  himself  a  stiff 
whisky-and-soda,  and  drank  it  at  a  draught. 
He  felt  better  after  it  and  more  hopeful. 

Poor  little  Lallie!  It  had  been  a  horrid 
scene.  He  wouldn't  appeal  to  her  again — not 
just  now  while  she  was  still  angry,  but  in  Ham- 
chester — thank  Heaven!  she  would  be  some- 
where within  reach  where  he  could  see  her 
sometimes.  Perhaps  by  and  by,  when  she  had 
cooled  down,  she  would  listen  to  reason.  By 
the  way,  he  might  go  and  see  that  schoolmaster 
fellow  who  was  acting  as  her  guardian.  The 
Chesters  said  he  was  a  very  decent  chap,  quite 
a  man  of  the  world.  Ballinger  thought  he 
might  just  give  a  hint  that  there  had  been  un- 
pleasantness about  another  woman,  and  a  tol- 
erant, broad-minded  man — the  Chesters  said  he 
277 


Master  and  Maid 

was  that — would  say  something  sensible  to 
Lallie,  and  it  would  have  weight.  She  was  for- 
ever quoting  him.  She'd  probably  take  it  from 
him. 

It  never  occurred  to  Sidney  Ballinger  that  a 
guardian  of  any  sort  could  regard  him  other 
than  in  the  most  favourable  light.  After  all, 
eight  thousand  a  year  is  eight  thousand  a  year, 
and  "I'm  not  a  bad  chap  or  wastrel.  There's 
nothing  against  me  really,"  he  reflected. 

By  tea-time  he  was  able  to  take  quite  an 
optimistic  view  of  the  situation. 


278 


CHAPTER  XXI 

NEARLY  three  weeks  later,  Tony  Bevan 
sat  on  a  seat  in  the  sun  watching  "Pots." 
It  was  Thursday  afternoon  and  there  was  an 
"extra  half." 

In  front  of  him,  standing  with  legs  wide 
apart,  very  conscious  of  a  new  covert  coat  and 
gaiters,  stood  Punch;  a  round  diminutive  Punch 
all  by  himself,  and  overjoyed  at  his  isolation. 
His  family  were  at  least  three  seats  away. 

When  a  covert  coat,  if  it  is  to  be  a  coat  at 
all,  necessarily  reaches  almost  to  one's  knees, 
it  is  difficult  to  thrust  one's  hands  in  knicker- 
bocker  pockets.  So  Punch  found  it.  He  tried 
both,  he  tried  hard,  but  the  coat  would  bunch 
out  all  round  like  a  frill,  so  he  contented  him- 
self with  one.  With  the  other  he  occasionally 
shaded  his  eyes,  as  though  the  watery  No- 
vember sun  was  too  strong  for  him. 

Sitting  on  the  same  seat  with  "Mitta  Bevan," 
as  Punch  called  him,  were  two  boys — big  boys. 
279 


Master  and  Maid 

Punch  liked  big  boys;  they  were  generally 
quite  friendly. 

Presently  he  turned  to  Tony  and  said  po- 
litely: 

"I  hope  I  don't  o'scure  your  view." 

The  big  boys  made  queer  muffled  sounds, 
but  Tony  said  gravely: 

"Well,  if  you  could  stand,  just  a  little  to  the 
left — or  better  still,  won't  you  come  and  sit 
with  us?  You'd  see  just  as  well." 

Punch  came,  and  was  duly  ensconced  be- 
tween Tony  and  one  of  the  boys,  with  a  share 
of  rug  over  his  short  legs. 

"Where's  Lallie?"  he  asked;  "she's  not  been 
to  see  us  for  ages,  nor  to  sing  for  me." 

"Lallie  is  coming  home  the  day  after  to- 
morrow. Are  you  glad?  /  am,"  said  Tony, 
and  he  looked  it. 

"Why  did  she  go  away  so  long  for?" 

"Well,  you  see,  the  lady  she  was  staying  with 
begged  her  to  stay  on  and  on,  and  she's  very 
fond  of  that  lady;  but  she's  really  coming 
home  on  Saturday." 

"Will  she  come  to  see  me  on  Saturday?" 

"I'm  not  sure.  You  see  she  mightn't  get 
280 


Master  and  Maid 

home  very  early,  but  I  think  she'll  come  and  see 
you  on  Sunday  afternoon  if  you'll  be  at  home." 

"I'll  be  at  home,"  said  Punch  firmly;  "I 
won't  go  to  the  children's  service  with  Pris 
and  Prue." 

"I  don't  think  she'd  come  during  service 
time." 

"I'd  better  not  go  lest  she  did,"  Punch  in- 
sisted. "I  like  Lallie." 

"I  think  we  all  like  Lallie/'  said  Tony,  and 
one  of  the  "big  boys"  sitting  on  the  seat  mur- 
mured: "And  so  say  all  of  us,"  and  nudged 
his  comrade. 

Letter  after  letter  had  come  from  Lallie  de- 
ferring her  return.  First  it  was  that — "there 
are  five  hundred  little  red  names  to  sew  on 
Claude  Chester's  garments  before  he  returns  to 
Egypt.  Mrs.  Chester  seems  to  imagine  that 
there's  something  magical  about  those  names, 
and  that  they  will  in  some  mysterious  fashion 
prevent  Claude  losing  his  clothes,  which  he 
does  at  the  rate  of  about  an  outfit  a  year.  I 
should  think  that  the  whole  of  the  Egyptian 
Army  is  taking  a  wear  out  of  Claude's  vests 
281 


Master  and  Maid 

and  things,  judging  by  the  amount  he  takes 
out  and  the  few  and  holey  garments  he  brings 
back.  Mrs.  Chester  says  it  hurts  her  eyes  to 
thread  needles,  and  she's  a  poor  old  woman 
with  no  daughter;  and  what  would  I  be  tear- 
ing back  to  Hamchester  for  where  no  one  par- 
ticularly wants  me  (that's  not  true,  is  it?)  when 
I  can  be  of  use  here?  So  I  really  think  I'd 
better  stay  till  the  names  are  all  firmly  at- 
tached, but  it  won't  take  long." 

Then,  after  the  little  red  names  were  all 
sewed  on,  Mrs.  Chester  got  an  exceedingly  bad 
cold  and  had  to  stay  in  bed ;  and  of  course  Lai- 
lie  had  to  stay  on  at  Pinnels  to  look  after  her. 

But  she  was  really  coming  home  to-morrow. 
Tarrant  was  getting  up  every  day  for  an  hour 
or  two,  and  it  seemed  only  in  keeping  with  the 
general  pleasantness  of  things  that  B.  House 
should  already  have  scored  six  points  to  nil. 

One  thing  about  Lallie's  letter  puzzled  Tony. 
She  never  so  much  as  mentioned  Ballinger.  If 
she  had  given  him  his  conge,  this  was  natural 
enough  and  like  Lallie;  but  if  not,  what  did  it 
mean? 

282 


Master  and  Maid 

At  half-past  five  that  evening  Sidney  Bal- 
linger's  card  was  brought  in  to  him. 

He  never  saw  people  in  the  drawing-room  if 
he  could  possibly  help  it.  He  never  knew  why 
he  hated  it  so  till  Lallie  commented  upon  its 
stiffness.  He  received  Sidney  Ballinger  in  his 
study. 

"Nervous,  poor  chap,"  was  Tony's  mental 
comment,  as  his  guest  came  in.  He  did  his 
best  to  set  him  at  his  ease;  supplied  him  with 
cigarettes;  offered  him  tea;  whisky-and-soda; 
both  refused. 

"I  dare  say,"  said  Ballinger,  "that  Miss  Clon- 
mell  told  you  I  hoped  you  would  allow  me  to 
call.  Is  she  at  home?" 

Tony  looked  rather  surprised. 

"She  returns  on  Saturday;  I  thought  you 
were  at  Pinnels  also." 

"I  left  last  Monday  fortnight,  and  I  haven't 
heard  from  Miss  Clonmell  since.  I  thought  she 
was  coming  back  next  day." 

"Been  having  good  hunting  with  the  Cock- 
shots?  "  asked  Tony. 

"Pretty  fair.  Mr.  Bevan,  it's  no  use  beating 
about  the  bush;  you  know,  I  have  no  doubt, 
283 


Master  and  Maid 

why  I  am  here  and  why  I  have  ventured  to  call 
upon  you.  When  I  went  to  Pinnels  three 
weeks  ago  I  fully  intended  to  ask  Miss  Clon- 
mell  to  be  my  wife — to  ask  her  again.  She 
told  you  that  I  had  already  proposed  to 
her?" 

"She  didn't  tell  me.    Her  father  did  though." 

"Well,  I  didn't  ask  her  again  at  Pinnels:  not 
in  so  many  words;  I  never  got  the  chance." 

"  That  was  unfortunate, "  said  Tony,  and  in 
spite  of  himself  his  eyes  twinkled. 

"It  was  d — d  unfortunate.  I'll  make  a 
clean  breast  of  it.  There  was  another  woman 
there — a  married  woman — with  whom  I  had 
had  a  foolish  flirtation  in  my  salad  days — when 
I  was  at  Cambridge.  You  know  the  sort;  older 
than  I  am,  and  horribly  tenacious." 

Ballinger  paused.  Tony  smoked  thought- 
fully but  said  nothing  to  help  him  out.  "A 
bit  of  a  Goth,"  thought  Ballinger,  and  took  up 
his  tale  again. 

"Well,  she  made  a  scene.    Told  Lallie  all 
about  it,  and  before  me,  too;    and  naturally 
Lallie — Miss    Clonmell — was    upset,    and    she 
wouldn't  listen  to  me  after  that." 
284 


Master  and  Maid 

"But  why  do  you  tell  me  all  this?"  asked 
Tony,  and  took  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth. 

"You  see,  sir,  I  know  that  Miss  Clonmell 
has  a  very  high  opinion  of  you;  that  you  have, 
in  fact,  enormous  influence  over  her;  and  it 
seemed  to  me  that  if  you  would  tell  her  it 
really  wasn't  anything  so  very  bad." 

"Wasn't  it  anything  so  very  bad?" 

"I  assure  you  no —  Folly  if  you  like, 
egregious  folly;  but  it  might  have  happened  to 
any  one.  If  you  could  tell  Miss  Clonmell  that 
you  have  seen  me,  that  I  have  told  you  the 
whole  thing,  and  that  you  think  she  ought  to 
forgive  me — that  she  ought  not  to  let  it  ruin 
both  our  lives." 

"That's  the  point,"  said  Tony.  "Will  it 
ruin  Miss  ClonmelPs  life  if  she  continues  to  take 
an  adverse  view  of  the  circumstance  you  have 
just  related?  Or  is  it  only  of  your  own  life 
you  are  thinking?" 

"I  believe  I  could  make  her  happy,"  said 
Ballinger  gloomily. 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  would  do  your  best 
to  do  so,  but  one  can  never  tell  what  view  a 
woman  may  take  of  such  things;  and  I'm  not 
285 


Master  and  Maid 

sure  that  they  aren't  often  perfectly  right. 
Still,  in  Lallie's  case,  she  has  had  a  different 
bringing  up  from  most  girls.  You  can  never 
depend  on  her  taking  the  conventional  view. 
There  is  probably  hope  for  you — if  she  cares." 

"A  very  big  if,"  groaned  Ballinger. 

"If  she  doesn't  care,  I  can't  see  how  what 
you  have  told  me  would  affect  her  one  way  or 
other."  Tony  took  up  his  pipe  again  and 
stared  steadily  into  the  fire. 

Ballinger  stared  at  him.  How  much  did  he 
know?  Had  Lallie  written  about  it  to  him? 
She  probably  would,  and  that's  why  he  said 
that  about  not  taking  the  conventional  view. 
He  didn't  make  it  very  easy  for  a  fellow.  Bal- 
linger cleared  his  throat. 

"May  I,"  he  asked,  "depend  upon  you  to  put 
my  cast  as  favourably  as  possible  before  Miss 
Clonmell?" 

"I  can't  promise  that.  You  see,  to  be  per- 
fectly candid,  I  know  next  to  nothing  about 
you,  except  that  you  are  well  off  and  that  Fitz 
Clonmell  likes  you;  but  I  will  certainly  point 
out  to  Miss  Clonmell  that  it  would  be  a  pity  to 
let  an  affair  of  that  sort — you  said  it  was  en- 
286 


Master  and  Maid 

tirely  ended,  I  think;  had  been  for  some  time 
— stand  in  the  way  where  there  was  any  solid 
prospect  of  happiness.  I  can't  truly  say  I'm 
glad  you  told  me  of  this,  for  I'm  not.  It  puts 
a  horrid  lot  of  responsibility  on  me,  and  an  old 
bachelor  is  hardly  the  adviser  one  would  choose 
for  a  girl  in  affairs  of  this  kind." 


"I'll  put  the  common-sense  view  before  Lai- 
lie,  as  I  promised,"  Tony  wrote  to  Fitz  Clon- 
mell  that  night;  "but  your  Sidney  Bargrave 
Ballinger  is  too  much  of  a  'Tomlinson'  for  my 
taste." 


287 


CHAPTER  XXII 

"TV  TY  heart,  my  heart  is  like  a  singing  bird, 
1VA     Whose  nest  is  in  a  watered  shoot," 

sang  Lallie,  and  Tony  Bevan  had  set  his  study 
door  open  to  listen. 

There  was  no  doubt  whatever  that  Lallie 
was  supremely  glad  to  be  back  at  B.  House. 
Even  Miss  Foster  had,  at  dinner  that  night, 
thawed  into  a  semblance  of  geniality;  the  girl's 
pleasure  was  so  manifest,  her  high  spirits  so 
infectious. 

Now,  alone  in  the  drawing-room,  she  sang 
song  after  song,  and,  unlike  Lallie's  songs  as  a 
rule,  not  one  of  them  was  sad. 

"  Because  my  love,  my  love  has  come  to  me," 

she  carolled. 

The  melody — exulting,  triumphant,  a  very 
paean  of  rapture,  young,  glad,  valorous — so  en- 
tirely expressed  Tony's  own  feeling  that  it  drew 
him  with  irresistible  force,  and  he  went  to  her. 
288 


Master  and  Maid 

She  did  not  pause  in  her  song,  but  sang  on  with 
ever-increasing  abandon;  and  Tony,  leaning 
against  the  end  of  the  piano  and  watching  her, 
was  hard  put  to  it  not  to  tell  her  there  and  then 
what  she  was  to  him. 

But  he  was  not  given  to  act  on  the  impulse 
of  the  moment,  and  even  before  the  last  glad 
notes  had  died  away  there  came  the  old  chilling 
consciousness  of  the  disparity  between  them: 
a  disparity  not  of  age  only,  but  of  tempera- 
ment. Tony  was  very  humble-minded.  On 
such  rare  occasions  as  he  thought  about  him- 
self at  all  he  did  not,  like  Sidney  Ballinger, 
tell  himself  he  "was  not  a  bad  fellow."  He 
was  only  too  conscious  of  his  many  defects  and 
shortcomings.  He  hoped  he  did  his  best  ac- 
cording to  his  lights,  but  he  acknowledged  that 
those  lights  were  neither  brilliant  nor  searching. 
And  just  as  there  was  for  Lallie  something  in- 
congruous in  the  fact  that  he  was  a  school- 
master, so  there  was  for  himself  something 
almost  ridiculous  in  the  fact  that  he,  of  all  peo- 
ple in  the  world,  should  be  hopelessly  in  love 
with  one  so  elusive  and  so  complex  as  was  the 
lady  of  his  dreams. 

289 


Master  and  Maid 

For  just  as  no  mortal  on  earth  could  ever 
be  sure  what  Lallie  would  do  next,  Tony 
least  of  all:  so  she  and  the  world  in  gen- 
eral had  a  habit  of  depending  upon  Tony 
Bevan  and  always  expecting  from  him  a  cer- 
tain kind  of  conduct.  Nor  were  they  ever 
disappointed. 

"I  wonder,"  said  Lallie,  looking  across  the 
piano  at  him,  "  whether  you  are  half  as  glad  to 
see  me  as  I  am  to  get  back." 

"Don't  I  look  glad?" 

"You  always  do  that;  but  then,  that  might 
only  be  kindness  and  politeness  on  your  part. 
I  seem  to  have  been  away  years." 

"You  went  for  three  days  and  stayed  three 
weeks.  Were  all  the  outfit,  and  colds,  and  dire 
need  for  your  presence  genuine,  or  was  it  merely 
that  you  were  having  a  good  time  and  wanted 
to  stay  at  Pinnels?  " 

"I  did  have  a  good  time  at  Pinnels:  I  al- 
ways do;  but  I  should  have  been  back  long 
ago  had  it  not  been  that  Mrs.  Chester  really 
seemed  to  want  me." 

"Mrs.  Chester's  desire  is  not  incomprehen- 
sible, but  I  hope  you  are  not  going  away  for 
290 


Master  and  Maid 

any  more  long  week-ends,  or  the  holidays  will 
be  here,  and  then " 

"Then  I  pick  up  Paddy  at  the  Shop  dance, 
and  we  both  go  to  Ireland  for  Christmas;  and 
if  you  think  Aunt  Emileen  will  be  sufficient 
chaperon,  reinforced  by  Paddy,  we  shall  be 
pleased  to  see  you." 

"But  I'm  supposed  to  be  a  chaperon  my- 
self." 

"Not  at  all,"  Lallie  said  emphatically. 
"Have  you  forgotten  the  dreadful  fuss  you 
made  because  Miss  Foster  wasn't  here  when  I 
first  came?" 

"Ah,  but  that  was  different — I  have  to  be 
away  so  much  here.  By  the  way,  have  you 
nothing  to  say  to  me,  in  my  capacity  of  chap- 
eron— Uncle  Emileen,  if  you  like — as  to  the 
momentous  decision  you  told  me  you  would 
be  called  upon  to  make  while  you  were  at 
Pinnels." 

"Tony,  dear" — Lallie  spoke  in  a  whisper, 
looking  delightfully  demure  and  mischiev- 
ous— "I  was  never  called  upon  to  make 
any  decision  at  all.  I  suppose  it  was  conceit 
on  my  part  to  think  I  should  have  to  do  it. 
291 


Master  and  Maid 

Anyway,  I  hadn't  to,  and  it  saved  a  lot  of 
trouble." 

"Is  that  quite  true,  Lallie?" 

"In  the  letter  absolutely;  in  the  spirit — 
well,  it  takes  a  lot  of  explaining  when  you  come 
to  such  subtleties.  And  sometimes  one  can't 
explain  without  bringing  in  other  people  who'd 
perhaps  rather  be  left  out." 

"Who  were  the  other  guests  at  Pinnels  be- 
sides you  and  Mr.  Ballinger? " 

"A  young  lady — a  young  lady  after  Miss 
Foster's  own  heart,  I'm  sure;  so  inconspicu- 
ous and  characterless,  she  reminded  me  of  the 
man  in  the  pantomime  who  is  always  running 
across  the  stage  with  a  parcel  and  gets  knocked 
down  and  disappears  only  to  be  knocked  down 
next  time  he  crosses  the  stage  with  the  same 
inevitable  parcel.  I'm  not  sure  whether  she 
was  the  man  or  the  parcel,  but  she  really  doesn't 
come  into  the  story." 

"Yes;  and  who  else?" 

"Three  Chester  boys — all  nice;  there  never 
was  a  nicer  family.  And  then  there  was  a  Mrs. 
Atwood." 

"What  was  she  like?" 
292 


Master  and  Maid 

"She,  Tony,  was  the  kind  of  person  de- 
scribed by  their  relations  as  'highly  strung'; 
she  uses  immense  long  words,  of  Greek  origin 
if  possible — at  least  Billy  Chester  said  so,  and 
he  ought  to  know,  being  just  fresh  from  Ox- 
ford." 

"Does  Mrs.  Chester  like  your  Mr.  Ballin- 
ger?" 

"Why  do  you  call  him  'my*  Mr.  Ballinger? 
He's  nothing  of  the  sort.  Yes,  Mrs.  Chester 
does  like  him;  she  knew  him  when  he  was  quite 
young  and  used  to  come  for  the  holidays  to 
the  uncle  who  left  him  all  the  money,  and  she 
was  dreadfully  sorry  for  him." 

"Who?    Ballinger  or  the  uncle?" 

"Mr.  Ballinger,  of  course.  His  parents  died 
when  he  was  quite  little,  and  this  uncle  and 
aunt  brought  him  up.  There  was  an  aunt  then, 
a  dreadful  aunt,  who  thought  that  everything 
in  the  least  pleasant  was  wicked.  She  con- 
sidered all  games  a  waste  of  time.  Novels  and 
poetry  were  an  invention  of  the  devil,  and  such 
people  as  the  kind,  good,  merry  Chesters  'dan- 
gerous companions.'  So  the  poor  boy  had 
rather  dismal  holidays.  The  only  thing  she 
293 


Master  and  Maid 

thought  good  about  Rugby  was  a  volume  of 
Dr.  Arnold's  sermons.  Oh,  he  had  a  poor  time 
of  it." 

"Still,  they  sent  him  to  a  good  school  and 
then  to  the  'Varsity.  They  didn't  do  very 
badly  by  him." 

"The  aunt  died  before  he  went  to  Cam- 
bridge, and  his  uncle  became  much  more  hu- 
man. For  one  thing  he  was  awfully  pleased 
because  Mr.  Ballinger  was  so  quiet  and  indus- 
trious. He  didn't  waste  his  time  playing  cricket 
and  getting  blues  and  things,  and  so  he  got  a 
splendid  degree — a  something  first!  Are  you 
listening,  Tony?" 

"I  am,  most  attentively,  and  it  strikes  me 
that  if  that  young  man  had  spent  a  little  more 
of  his  time  playing  games,  he  might  not  have 
got  into  the  particular  kind  of  mischief  he  did 
get  into — mischief  that  is  apt  to  make  things 
very  uncomfortable  later  on." 

All  the  time  she  was  talking  Lallie  had  been 
playing  very  softly  in  subdued  accompani- 
ment to  her  remarks.  Now  she  suddenly 
ceased,  and  sitting  up  very  straight  stared 
hard  at  Tony,  who  still  lounged  against  the 
294 


Master  and  Maid 

other  end  of  the  piano  devouring  her  with 
his  eyes. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Tony?" 

"I  mean,  Lallie,  that  a  young  man  is  apt  to 
pay  dearly  for  a  sentimental  friendship  with  a 
lady  of  'highly  strung'  temperament." 

"Where  in  the  world  did  you  hear  anything 
about  it?" 

"Now  where  do  you  think?" 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  he  has  actually 
been  to  see  you  and  told  you  himself?" 

"That  is  precisely  what  I  do  mean;  and 
having  heard  the  story,  I  feel  it  my  duty  to 
ask  you  not  to  be  too  hard  on  the  fellow — not 
to  let  it  influence  your  decision  one  way  or 
other;  especially  now  that  you  have  told  me 
of  his  boyhood,  would  I  beg  you  to  judge 
leniently." 

Lallie's  little  face  grew  set  and  hard,  her 
grey  eyes  darkened,  and  the  soft  curves  of  her 
chin  took  on  stern,  purposeful  lines. 

"Just  tell  me  this,"  she  said.  "Did  he, 
when  he  described  the  somewhat  stormy  in- 
terview with  Mrs.  Atwood,  give  you  to  un- 
derstand that  it  was  his  flirtation  with  the 
295 


Master  and  Maid 

lady  that  I  objected  to?  Did  he  say  that 
now?" 

"Well,  naturally." 

"Then  he  lied." 

"Lallie,  my  dear  child!" 

"Since  he  has  chosen  to  confide  in  you — 
though  why,  Heaven  only  knows — I  will  tell 
you  exactly  what  happened.  She  made  a 
scene,  and  he  behaved  like  a  brute  to  her;  and 
it's  because  he  behaved  like  a  brute  that  I  will 
have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him.  He  went 
back  on  her,  Tony;  denied  that  he'd  ever 
cared  a  toss  for  her,  and  before  me,  too." 

"Perhaps  there  was  enormous  provocation. 
You  see,  he  is  very  much  in  love  with  you,  and 
he  wouldn't  know  how  you  would  take  it." 

"That  was  evident.  He  did  the  one  thing 
that  I  could  never,  never  forgive.  And  now 
let's  have  an  end  of  this,  Tony;  you've  done 
your  duty  and  pleaded  his  cause,  and  for  your 
comfort  I'll  first  tell  you  this:  that  if  I  had 
cared  for  him  and  there  had  been  twenty  Mrs. 
Atwoods,  and  each  had  come  with  a  tale  as  long 
as  your  arm  about  him,  it  wouldn't  have  moved 
me  an  inch  provided  he  was  straight  with  me 
296 


Master  and  Maid 

and  generous  and  honest  to  them.  As  it  hap- 
pened I  didn't  care  for  him.  I  had  decided 
that  before  there  was  any  fuss  at  all  with  Mrs. 
Atwood.  But  when  she  came  and,  so  to  speak, 
put  a  pistol  at  my  head,  commanding  me  to 
give  him  up,  I  wasn't  going  to  tell  her  that 
I'd  done  it  already." 

"But  why  not,  if  you  had?  It  would  have 
saved  all  the  fuss." 

"If  you  think  I'm  going  to  knuckle  under 
to  any  idiotic,  hysterical  woman  that  chooses 
to  bully  me,  just  to  save  a  fuss,  you  little 
know  me,  or  any  woman." 

Tony  shook  his  head  solemnly,  but  his  heart 
was  light,  as  he  said: 

"No  one  can  pretend  to  understand  a  wom- 
an. I  have  no  doubt  whatever  that  you  did 
everything  you  could  to  annoy  and  rouse  that 
poor  lady,  and  then,  having  achieved  your  ob- 
ject and  forced  Ballinger's  hand,  you  turn 
and  rend  him  for  crying  out  when  he's  hurt." 

"It's  only  women  who  may  cry  out.  A 
man  that  is  a  man  suffers  in  silence." 

"H'm — I'm  not  so  sure;  it  depends  on  the 
man." 

297 


Master  and  Maid 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  this:  that  I  won't  many 
any  one  I  can't  lean  against  in  a  crisis.  If  I 
think  a  man  can't  bear  my  light  weight  with- 
out crumpling  up,  I've  no  use  for  him;  and 
the  man  who  goes  back  on  one  woman  will  go 
back  on  another.  No,  thank  you." 

"Will  you  tell  your  father  this?" 

"Oh,  dear,  yes;  and  tell  him  you  pleaded 
Mr.  Ballinger's  cause  and  made  my  life  a  burden 
generally.  I'll  be  a  sister  to  him,  Tony,  and 
tell  him  a  few  home  truths;  it  would  do  him 
all  the  good  in  the  world." 

"Well,  I  sincerely  trust  no  more  young  men 
will  come  to  me  about  you;  upon  my  word, 
this  sort  of  thing  is  twenty  times  worse  than 
parents.  You're  a  frightful  responsibility,  Lai- 
lie." 

Her  lips  trembled,  she  gave  him  a  long  re- 
proachful look,  and  then  seemed  to  collapse 
into  a  pathetic  little  heap  on  the  keyboard  of 
the  piano,  her  arms  spread  out  on  the  protest- 
ing notes,  her  head  down  on  her  arms. 

Lallie  was  crying,  and  crying  bitterly. 

With  a  muttered  and  intensely  sincere  "God 
help  me!"  Tony  went  round  and  stood  beside 
298 


Master  and  Maid 

her,  patting  her  shoulder  awkwardly,  but  very 
gently. 

"My  dear,  my  dear,  what  is  it?  Why  do 
you  cry?" 

She  lifted  her  little  face,  all  tear-stained  and 
piteous. 

"I  thought  you'd  be  glad  it  was  all  at  an  end 
and  done  with,"  she  sobbed,  "but  your  chief 
concern  seems  to  be  that  you'll  still  have  the 
bother  of  me.  I  can't  get  married  just  to  get 
out  of  the  way.  I've  a  great  mind  to  accept 
Cripps  and  see  what  you'd  say  then:  that 
would  be  bother  enough " 

"Cripps!    What  on  earth  do  you  mean?" 

"Cripps  is  a  gentleman,  a  dear,  nice  boy; 
he  wrote  to  me — it  was  one  of  the  letters  you 
forwarded,  but  he'd  disguised  his  writing  so 
you  never  noticed — saying  he  thought  I'd  got 
into  trouble  through  waving  my  hand  to  him, 
and  that  was  why  I'd  gone  away;  and  he  was 
dreadfully  sorry,  and  he'd  go  to  you  imme- 
diately if  I  gave  him  leave — he's  going  to 
Sandhurst  next  term  if  he  passes,  you  know — 
and  that  there  was  nobody  in  the  world — oh, 

you  know  the  sort  of  thing " 

299 


Master  and  Maid 

"Indeed,  I  don't,"  cried  Tony,  in  vigorous 
disclaimer.  "I  never  heard  such  nonsense. 
And  what  did  you  do?" 

"I  wrote  him  ever  such  a  pretty  letter,  but 
I  pointed  out  that  the  damsel  destined  for  him 
is  probably  at  this  moment  wearing  a  pinafore 
and  a  pigtail.  I  was  motherly  and  kind  and 
judicious." 

Lallie's  face  was  still  wet  with  tears,  but  her 
eyes  sparkled  and  were  full  of  mischief  again. 

"I'm  glad  one  of  you  showed  a  modicum  of 
sense.  Remember,  I  know  nothing  of  Cripps 
and  his  vagaries;  don't  send  him  to  me,  what- 
ever you  do." 

"7  didn't  send  Mr.  Ballinger." 

"I  don't  suppose  you  did;  still,  if  you  happen 
to  know  of  any  one  else  likely  to  come  and  ask 
my  assistance  in  his  wooing,  you  might  break  it 
to  me  gently — now,  that  I  may  be  prepared." 

Lallie  looked  down;  she  smiled  and  dimpled 
distractingly,  as  she  said  softly: 

"You  must  promise  not  to  be  cross — Mr. 
Johns  wrote  too,  very  seriously.  He  asked  me 
to  live  the  higher  life  with  him." 

"The  deuce  he  did!    And  you?" 
300 


Master  and  Maid 

"I  think  a  sisterly  feeling  is  all  I  can  mus- 
ter up  for  Mr.  Johns  at  present." 

Tony  groaned. 

"Will  he  come  to  me,  do  you  suppose?  I 
warn  you,  he'tt  hear  some  home  truths  if  he 
does." 

"I  don't  think  he'll  worry  you,  Tony.  He's 
on  probation — as  it  were." 

Softly,  very  softly,  Lallie  began  to  play  the 
"Widdy  Malone,"  and  almost  unconsciously 
Tony  found  himself  humming: 

"She  broke  all  the  hearts  of  the  swains  in  thim  parts." 

Lallie  laughed. 

"No  'Lucius  O'Brian  of  Clare'  has  come  as 
yet,"  she  said. 

She  had  turned  her  face  back  to  Tony,  with 
laughing  challenge  in  her  eyes. 

"Upon  my  soul,  I  can't  stand  this,"  cried 
Tony  Bevan,  and  fled  from  the  room. 

Lallie  sat  where  she  was,  staring  after  him 
in  speechless  astonishment. 

"I  can't  make  out  Tony  these  days  at  all, 
at  all,"  she  sighed. 

301 


Master  and  Maid 

But  she  did  not  get  up  and  run  after  him  as 
she  would  have  done  a  month  ago. 

Tony  held  old-fashioned  and  chivalrous  no- 
tions regarding  his  duties  as  host  and  guardian 
to  his  friend's  daughter.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  in  no  way  was  it  possible  for  him  to  de- 
clare his  feeling  for  Lallie  without  putting  her 
in  a  false  and  painful  position.  And  not  to 
declare  that  feeling  emphatically  and  at  length 
was  becoming  every  day  more  difficult.  He 
knew  the  girl  to  be  so  fond  of  him  in  the  dear, 
natural,  unrestrained  fashion  that  had  grown 
with  her  growth,  that  had  become  as  much  a 
pleasant  habit  of  mind  as  her  love  for  Paddy 
or  her  father,  that  he  dreaded,  should  he  ask 
more,  lest  she  might  mistake  her  present  feel- 
ing for  something  deeper,  and  in  sheer  grati- 
tude and  affection  promise  what  it  was  not 
really  hers  to  give.  Again,  should  she  feel  it 
impossible  even  to  consider  him  in  the  light  of 
a  lover,  he  made  the  situation  difficult — nay, 
impossible — for  her.  She  could  not  then  return 
to  B.  House,  and  she  had  nowhere  else  to  go. 

Sometimes  Tony  let  himself  consider  a  third 
and  glorious  contingency — that  Lallie  cared 
302 


Master  and  Maid 

even  as  he  cared.  Even  so,  she  could  not  come 
back  to  B.  House,  but  old  Fitz  would  have  to 
come  back  a  bit  sooner,  and  she  could  stay 
with  the  Wentworths  till  he  did;  at  such  mo- 
ments as  these  Tony's  lined  face  would  grow 
boyishly  radiant.  But  all  too  soon  the  good 
moment  passed  and  stern  realities  hemmed 
him  in  on  every  side:  loyalty  to  Fitz,  the  best 
and  kindest  thing  to  Lallie. 

Yet,  with  the  temptation  to  tell  her  all  he 
felt  for  her  assailing  him  all  day  long,  it  was 
positive  agony  to  think  of  her  as  out  of  his 
reach  with  all  the  world  free  to  make  love  to 
her. 

The  strain  was  telling  on  Tony.  He  looked 
old  and  harassed,  and  as  the  Christmas  term 
drew  to  an  end  the  boys  in  his  form  declared 
that  in  all  their  experience  his  temper  had  never 
been  so  fiendish. 

Even  Miss  Foster  noticed  that  he  was  look- 
ing unwell  and,  quite  rightly,  attributed  his 
indisposition  to  the  worry  of  having  "that  up- 
setting girl "  in  the  house. 

Mr.  Johns  was  not  wholly  discouraged  by 
Lallie's  sisterly  attitude,  and  in  somewhat  sol- 
303 


Master  and  Maid 

emn  fashion  showed  her  plainly  that  he  was 
there,  ready  to  respond  to  any  warmer  feeling 
on  her  part.  Lallie  was  consistently  gracious 
to  him,  and  the  young  man's  smug  acceptance 
of  her  favours  drove  Tony  to  desperation. 

Lallie  spent  a  great  deal  of  her  time  with  the 
Wentworths.  Mr.  Ballinger  would  not  take  no 
for  an  answer.  He  called  frequently,  he  man- 
aged to  ingratiate  himself  with  Mrs.  Went- 
worth,  and  often  met  Lallie  there  as  Tony 
knew.  He  even,  with  artless  belief  hi  Tony's 
sympathy,  sought  him  again,  begging  for  his 
good  word. 

Tony  was  bitterly  conscious  that  all  the 
world,  that  all  his  little  circle — boys,  masters, 
and  masters'  wives — seemed  to  see  more  of 
Lallie  than  he  did,  but  he  never  sought  her 
society,  and  lately  she  never  came  to  say  good- 
night to  him  in  his  study  as  she  always  did 
at  first. 


304 


CHAPTER  XXIH 

THE  winter  term  at  Hamchester  ends  the 
day  after  the  College  concert.  There  is 
always  a  great  gathering  of  old  Hamchestrians 
at  this  function,  and  the  accommodation  of  the 
houses  is  taxed  to  its  utmost.  B.  House  sent 
more  boys  to  Woolwich  than  any  other  in  the 
College,  but  that  year  the  cadets  did  not  get 
their  leave  till  three  days  after  the  College,  and 
so  could  not  manage  to  get  down  for  it.  There- 
fore B.  House  was  not  quite  so  packed  as  usual, 
though  there  was  a  fair  sprinkling  of  old  boys 
who  were  at  the  'Varsity  or  out  in  the  world. 

Lallie  sang  at  the  concert,  and  received  a 
tremendous  ovation.  She  had,  herself,  set  to 
music  four  verses  of  Kipling's — 

"Let  us  now  praise  famous  men, 
Men  of  little  showing" — 

and  the  tune,  stately  yet  jubilant,  marched  in 

swinging  measure  to  a  triumphant  conclusion. 

305 


Master  and  Maid 

Not  one  word  in  the  whole  four  verses  did  the 
audience  miss,  and  the  boys  yelled  "encore" 
with  one  prodigious  voice. 

The  programme  was  a  long  one,  encores  were 
"strictly  forbidden,"  and  the  restriction  was 
perfectly  reasonable;  but  the  boys  simply  re- 
fused to  let  the  next  item  on  the  programme 
begin.  Hamchester  School  had  made  up  its 
mind  that  it  wanted  Lallie  to  sing  again,  and  no 
power  on  earth  can  stop  six  hundred  boys  with 
good  lungs  when  they  fairly  get  going. 

Dr.  Wentworth  was  annoyed;  Tony  Bevan 
was  furious,  for  his  house  had  never  before 
really  got  out  of  hand,  and  there  was  no  doubt 
whatever  that  it  was  ringleader  in  the  tremen- 
dous din  that  followed  Lallie 's  singing.  Of 
course  she  was  radiant;  this  flying  in  the  face 
of  all  authority  was  after  her  own  heart.  She 
was  trembling  with  excitement  when  at  last,  in 
sheer  desperation,  Dr.  Wentworth  led  her  up 
on  to  the  platform  to  give  the  boys  their  way. 

She  chose  as  her  song,  "Should  he  upbraid," 
and  sang  at  the  Principal  in  the  most  bare- 
faced manner.  A  ripple  of  mirth  ran  over  the 
audience,  and  then,  as  the  liquid,  seductive 
306 


Master  and  Maid 

notes  rolled  out  so  smoothly  and  soothingly, 
Dr.  Wentworth's  annoyance  subsided  and  he 
actually  turned  and  beamed  at  his  boisterous 
boys.  Tony's  grim  face  relaxed,  and  by  the 
time  the  song  was  ended  the  masters  had  re- 
covered their  good  humour  and  the  boys  were 
forgiven. 

Next  day  the  school  went  home,  the  bulk 
of  the  boys  by  a  special  train  at  mid-day. 
Miss  Foster  was  to  leave  at  tea-time,  and  Lallie 
by  an  afternoon  train  for  Woolwich,  where  she 
was  to  stay  with  a  certain  general  and  his  wife, 
old  friends  of  her  father. 

Tony  Bevan  had  made  no  plans.  He  had 
half  promised  to  go  and  shoot  with  Paddy  over 
in  Kerry,  but  he  was  not  sufficiently  sure  of 
himself  to  make  up  his  mind.  He  felt  slack 
and  tired,  old  and  depressed. 

When  the  last  batch  of  boys  had  filled  the 
last  long  string  of  cabs,  Lallie  went  up  to  the 
matron's  room.  That  much-tried  woman  was 
sitting  exhausted  at  her  table,  turning  over 
some  of  her  interminable  lists.  Lallie  sat  down 
opposite  to  her  and  laid  her  hand  on  the  one 
that  held  the  list. 

307 


Master  and  Maid 

"You've  done  enough  for  one  morning," 
she  said.  "Rest  now  for  a  minute  and  listen 
to  me.  You've  been  endlessly  good  to  me, 
Matron,  dear,  and  I  don't  know  how  to  thank 
you.  I  have  been  so  happy  here,  and  now  it 
has  all  come  to  an  end  I  feel  very  sad.  I 
really  think  B.  House  is  the  nicest  place  on 
earth,  and  I'm  frightfully  sorry  to  go." 

"But  you're  coming  back  next  term,  Miss 
Clonmell — why,  we'll  all  be  together  again  in 
no  time.  There's  no  need  to  look  so  melan- 
choly about  it." 

Lallie  shook  her  head. 

"I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  I'll  come  back. 
It  seems  to  me,  especially  lately,  that  my  be- 
ing here  is  rather  a  worry  to  Tony.  I  seem  to 
vex  him  without  meaning  to — and  I  suppose 
I  am  a  bit  in  the  way.  It  has  lately  begun  to 
dawn  upon  me  that  Miss  Foster  is  perfectly 
right.  You  don't  want  'stray  girls'  in  a  house 
like  this." 

The  matron  looked  mysterious,  she  nodded 
her  head  thrice,  and  there  was  an  "I-could-an'- 
I- would"  air  about  her  extremely  provocative 
of  curiosity. 

308 


Master  and  Maid 

"Why  do  you  look  like  that,  Matron,  dear? 
I  won't  rest  till  you  tell  me.  Why  do  you 
wag  your  head  so  solemnly?  " 

"Have  you  no  idea,  Miss  Clonmell,  what  is 
the  matter  with  Mr.  Bevan?" 

"I  don't  know  that  there's  anything  the 
matter  with  him  except  that  he's  a  bit  tired 
of  term,  and  perhaps  of  me,  and  having  to 
be  Uncle  Emileen  for  such  a  long  stretch  of 
country." 

"You're  very  fond  of  Mr.  Bevan,  aren't  you, 
MissClonmell?" 

"Fond  of  Tony?  I  adore  Tony!  there's 
nobody  like  him." 

"Has  it  never  occurred  to  you  that  perhaps 
Mr.  Bevan " 

Matron  paused.  She  was  the  soul  of  dis- 
cretion, and  in  view  of  the  daring  step  she 
contemplated,  she  stopped  short  aghast. 

"Perhaps  what—    What  about  Tony?" 

"Has  it  never  struck  you  that  perhaps  Mr. 
Bevan  may  be  feeling  like  some  of  those  other 
young  gentlemen  who  are  so  much  taken  up 
with  you — only  in  his  case,  being  older,  it's  a 
much  more  serious  matter." 
309 


Master  and  Maid 

The  lovely  colour  flooded  Lallie's  face.  Her 
hand  tightened  on  Matron's,  and  she  gazed  at 
her  in  breathless  silence  for  a  full  minute. 

"Do  you  mean,"  she  whispered,  "that  you 
think  Tony  cares  for  me  like  that?" 

"I  am  perfectly  sure  of  it,"  said  Matron; 
"and  if  you  are  sure  you  can  never  care  for 
him  'like  that';  I  certainly  think  it  would  be 
kinder  of  you  not  to  come  back  next  term." 

Lallie's  eyes  were  shining ;  she  was  very 
pale  again  as  she  suddenly  leant  across  the 
little  table  and  kissed  the  matron. 

Without  another  word  she  went  out  of  the 
room. 

She  had  lunch  alone  with  Tony  and  Miss  Fos- 
ter. It  was  a  very  quiet  meal,  and  when  it 
was  over  she  followed  Tony  into  the  study  to 
receive  some  last  instructions  about  her  jour- 
ney. He  was  to  see  her  off  at  the  train,  and 
being  a  methodical  person  he  had  made  all 
arrangements  for  her  journey  to  Ireland  as 
well.  He  gave  her  marked  time-tables  and  her 
tickets,  and  then  looking  down  at  her  as  she 
stood  small  and  meek  and  receptive  at  his 
side,  he  said: 

310 


Master  and  Maid 

"Ballinger  has  been  at  me  again,  Lallie.  He 
really  does  seem  tremendously  in  earnest;  and 
I  think  that  if  you  don't  intend  to  have  any- 
thing more  to  do  with  him  you  should  make  it 
clearer  than  you  have  as  yet.  It  would  be 
kinder  to  put  him  out  of  suspense." 

"  Short  of  knocking  him  on  the  head  like  a 
gamekeeper  with  a  rabbit,  I  don't  see  what 
more  I  can  do." 

"Perhaps  if  he  had  it  in  black  and  white 
he'd  realise  that  you  mean  what  you  say." 

"But  I  can't  write  to  him  if  he  doesn't  write 
to  me.  It's  you  he  bothers,  not  me.  He 
has  never  said  one  syllable  to  me  that  all 
the  world  mightn't  hear,  since  I  came  back 
from  the  Chesters.  You  can't  expect  me  to 
go  out  of  my  way  to  refuse  a  man  who  has 
never  asked  me.  'He  either  fears  his  fate  too 
much' " 

"Perhaps  he's  pretty  certain  he'd  'lose  it 
all'  poor  chap,"  said  Tony  gently;  "I  can  sym- 
pathise with  him." 

Lallie  made  no  answer. 

He  took  her  to  the  station,  bought  her  pa- 
pers, spoke  to  the  guard,  and  compassed  her 
311 


Master  and  Maid 

about  with  all  the  thousand-and-one  obser- 
vances that  men  love  to  lavish  on  women  for 
whom  they  care. 

As  the  train  began  to  move,  Lallie  leant  out 
of  the  window. 

"If  you  look,"  she  began,  then  crimsoned  to 
the  roots  of  her  hair,  and  the  train  bore  her 
from  his  sight. 

"If  you  look — "  Tony  repeated  over  and 
over  again  as  he  walked  slowly  home — what 
could  she  have  been  going  to  say? 

He  went  into  the  town  and  restlessly  did 
several  quite  unnecessary  errands  at  various 
shops.  It  was  tea-time  when  he  got  back,  and 
he  had  it  with  Miss  Foster  in  the  drawing- 
room.  When  she  had  gone  he  went  into  his 
study  and  sat  down  at  his  desk. 

On  his  blotting-pad  lay  a  volume  of  Shake- 
speare. It  was  not  one  of  his  own  little  leather 
edition  that  he  always  used,  but  a  fat,  calf- 
bound  book  from  the  set  in  the  drawing- 
room. 

He  lifted  it  and  saw  that  it  contained  one  of 
Lallie's  markers — a  piece  of  white  ribbon  with 
a  green  four-leaved  shamrock  embroidered  at 
312 


Master  and  Maid 

each  end.  He  opened  it  at  the  place  marked, 
and  there  was  a  faint  pencil  line  against  the 
following  passage: 

"O,  by  your  leave,  I  pray  you; 
I  bade  you  never  speak  again  of  him: 
But,  would  you  undertake  another  suit, 
I  had  rather  hear  you  to  solicit  that, 
Than  music  from  the  spheres." 

The  College  Shakespeare  Society  had  read 
Twelfth  Night  at  B.  House  only  a  fortnight 
before,  and  Lallie  had  pestered  Tony  to  let  her 
read  Viola,  but  only  boys  and  masters  were 
permitted  to  perform. 

Tony  laid  the  book  down  on  his  desk  and  put 
the  marker  in  his  breast  pocket.  He  looked  at 
his  watch  and  wrote  a  telegram  to  an  old  Ham- 
chestrian  who  was  one  of  the  Under  Officers  at 
the  Shop. 

"If  you  possibly  can,  get  me  a  ticket  for  the 
dance  to-night.  Can't  get  there  till  eleven; 
leave  it  with  sergeant  at  door." 

He  rang  furiously  for  Ford  and  told  her  to 
pack  his  bag.  He  was  unexpectedly  called  away. 

He  caught  the  six-fifteen,  which  reached 
Paddington  soon  after  nine,  drove  to  a  hotel, 
313 


Master  and  Maid 

dressed,  dined,  and  went  down  by  train  to 
Woolwich. 

The  porters  marvelled  at  his  lavish  tips,  and 
the  cabman  who  drove  him  from  the  Arsenal 
station  to  the  Shop  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  gentleman  was  undoubtedly  drunk  when 
he  surveyed  his  fare. 

His  ticket  awaited  him,  on  production  of  his 
visiting  card,  and  he  was  allowed  to  make  his 
way  to  the  gym.,  where  the  ball  was  held. 

As  he  surveyed  the  brilliant  scene  his  heart 
failed  him  for  the  first  time  that  night.  There 
were  not  half  a  dozen  black  coats  in  the  crowded 
room,  and  just  for  a  moment  Tony  again  felt 
old  and  plain  and  uninteresting.  He  was  far 
too  big,  however,  to  remain  unnoticeable.  One 
after  another  of  his  old  boys  found  him  and 
gave  him  astonished  but  hearty  greeting. 

At  last  he  caught  sight  of  Lallie.  She  was 
waltzing  with  Paddy — conspicuously  handsome 
Paddy;  and  even  at  that  ball,  where  good  dan- 
cing is  the  rule  and  not  the  exception,  there 
was  something  harmoniously  distinguished  in 
the  dancing  of  these  two. 

Lallie  looked  white  and  tired.  Presently 
314 


Master  and  Maid 

Paddy  felt  her  sway  in  his  arms.  "Stop!" 
she  cried  breathlessly;  "am  I  mad,  or  is  that 
Tony  standing  on  the  other  side  of  the  room?" 

Paddy  piloted  her  skilfully  over  to  Tony. 
One  glance  at  their  faces  was  enough  for  that 
astute  youth. 

"How  ripping  of  you  to  come!"  he  ex- 
claimed; "but  Lallie's  a  mean  little  minx  not 
to  tell  me  you  were  coming." 

"She  didn't  know.  I  didn't  know  myself 
five  hours  ago.  But  I  have  something  very 
important  to  say  to  Lallie — something  that 
couldn't  possibly  wait." 

Paddy  chuckled. 

"You  may  have  the  rest  of  this  dance,"  he 
said;  "and  you  may  trust  Lallie  for  knowing 
the  best  places  for  sitting  out." 

"Will  you  come?"  asked  Tony. 

"To  the  end  of  the  world,"  said  Lallie,  as 
she  slipped  her  hand  under  his  arm;  "but  I 
warn  you,  Tony,  dear,  with  me  you  won't  have 
altogether  a  tranquil  journey." 


315 


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